Friends Who Kiss
by hxilcy
Summary: Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro were just friends. That's it. A kiss or two definitely did not make it certain that they were dating. They were just friends who kissed; they kissed for the comfort, to ease the silence, or just for the feeling of being in a relationship. But let's make things clear - they were not dating. Just friends who kiss. That's not weird. AU
1. get-together

_Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro were just friends. That's it. A kiss or two definitely did not make it certain that they were dating._  
 _They were just friends who kissed; they kissed for the comfort, to ease the silence, or just for the feeling of being in a relationship. But let's make things clear - they were_ not _dating. Just friends who kiss. That's not weird._ / A series of Isabella and Phineas's kisses, from the first one to the last one. Mentions of drugs and underage drinking/alcohol.

* * *

1  
get-together

The first time Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had ever kissed, let alone even spoke to one another, was at Buford Van Stomm's house for what he called a "get-together."

From the looks of it, you wouldn't necessarily consider it a "get-together." With its abundance of Sex on the Beaches, bottles of whiskey, beers, and more alcoholic beverages, it was more of a party. Several rooms were shut tight, out coming moans that were supposed to be silent thus amplified themselves through the thin walls. What accompanied that was the broken, yet loud crunching noise of the stereo playing, "I'm Lindana and I Wanna Have Fun" on repeat, to which, after a few drinks, no one seemed to mind anymore.

Well, only two people seemed to mind.

People had always expected Phineas Flynn, "the man, the myth, the legend," to be the one that gets drunk or high spontaneously in the most elaborate way possible. He always made sure his inventions were up to parr, especially the ones that were made for other people. For Buford, he had made a special bottle that allowed the user to get very drunk with any liquid - water, orange juice, you name it - after one sip. Likewise, he had also made him a machine that spurt out joints incredulously whenever he wanted, so that he wouldn't have to bother with losing almost forty dollars to his dealer every week. Because of these life-changing devices for Buford, the constant recreation of these inventions had put Phineas and his brother, Ferb, at a high demand. With that came his customers inviting him to smoke and drink on special occasions to thank him for the convenient inventions. Nonetheless, he declined; he wasn't in for the drugs or the alcohol (or at least he thought). He was just in it for the inventing, because that's all he truly cared about, especially with the money that came with it...or it was at least what Ferb cared about.

All he did at the "get-together" was try to convince Ferb to pick him up immediately after his date with his girlfriend, Vanessa, but he wasn't answering.

On the other hand, no one expected Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, the new girl with a history of being a goody-two-shoes, to do whatsoever her peers were doing, and neither did Isabella expected herself to do so either. No one really knew her, after all. The only reason she was at this "get-together" was because Buford was her only friend from school due to the pair sitting next to each other in math. She had just moved to Danville from higher up north within the Tri-State area, and oh boy - was this area of Tri-State much different from where her family had grown up in. She didn't like the atmosphere she put herself in. Not one bit. And she didn't know how to get out of it.

All she did at the "get-together" was try to talk to Buford to even feel remotely comfortable, but he was throwing up on the grass outside with a shy boy named Baljeet patting his back.

They were unable to properly retrieve their respective goals. Isabella first sat at a lonely couch in the corner of the family room, watching as people enjoyed themselves in the smoke of the weed flowing in from the vents, alongside drinking shot after shot. Phineas was the latter to sit on the couch, specifically at the edge across from Isabella, still texting Ferb until he eventually got the text back, "We'll be there whenever we can. Get ready for inventing later."

All they did at the "get-together" was sit on the couch for a quiet fifteen minutes under the blasting beat of Lindana's song, unknowing of what they would end up to be to each other.

/

"Phineas! Isabella!"

Phineas and Isabella looked up, only to see the sight of a dizzy Buford with vomit dripping down his mouth. He took a swig from the bottle Phineas had invented for him, mixing the taste of quickened alcohol with his vomit, inducing a grimaced reaction from him. He burped loudly in front of their faces, much to their disgust.

"Why aren't you two partying?" Buford said as he swatted his scent away from his nose. The smell of vomit from him, and practically everyone else in the room, only heightened.

Isabella looked over at Phineas. She was unsure of what to. This was the very first time she had ever seen Buford like this, but it didn't seem as though this boy right next to her she had barely learned existed had little to no reaction on what this drunkard was doing. He was used to it; she wasn't at all. "I've never really tried alcohol, Buford-"

Buford started to chuckle loudly. "Bullshit! Today is going to be your first day trying alcohol, and _you're gonna love it_ , Izzie! Buford likes that!" He took her by the hand. She tried to pull away, but he was just persistent on making his new friend become accustomed to what he had loved so dearly. He then stopped in his tracks, turned around, and motioned for Phineas to help him out, "Phineas! You gotta help me out with this, maybe then you can take in some more money!"

"What, why, Buford?" Phineas said, startled.

"You can make some more money if she likes it, and you can make a bunch of those bottles again! Business for you and Ferb!"

Phineas nodded and sighed. Ferb would be so happy to receive more money, and he wasn't one to disappoint his brother when it came to dealing with business. He was the brains behind dealing with customers and building the inventions, whereas Ferb was...well, the one who overlooks it, tells him how to do it, and collected much of the finance. Over the years, they had gotten $200. It expanded more and more with each customer that came to their service.

"Buf, I'm-" Isabella was interrupted by Buford.

"Izzie, it's alright! It'll be okay! I'm the perfect example, because I'm okay! See?" Buford smiled at Isabella. The scent of vomit and various mixtures of alcohol made up the hideous smell of his breath. Isabella grinned back, trying to empathize with his excitement.

"Here you go again with the peer pressure," Phineas scoffed as he made eye contact with this girl he had barely met. "Every sober friend he's ever had was peer pressured into this stuff." He made Isabella laugh - not nervously as he had expected, but in a way that exuded mirth.

"I'm giving you and Ferb business, Phineas!"

"I was gonna say that I am up to trying it," Isabella remarked, "But for now, I'm just gonna take a shot or two, okay? This guy doesn't have to do any 'business' for me."

Buford smirked. "Whatever you say."

/

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro did not expect herself, in the very least, to be taking one shot after the other. Phineas Flynn did not expect to be joining her in an attempt to compete against each other to see who can finish the most shots.

No one had expected to be cheering them on. Well, in retrospect, they had expected to be cheering Phineas on, but not Isabella, who had kept up a quiet and reserved person up until she began chugging down every shot that had been placed by Buford in front of her. Shot after shot, they both felt themselves succumb to the same nature as everyone else involved within the party. No one had necessarily been shocked; if only they were sober, then they would have been made this the biggest deal by now; nonetheless, because of the numerous drinks everyone had consumed and thrown up that night, no one would even remember this spectacular experience that was held at this "get-together".

Except for maybe Phineas and Isabella.

The music was blasting throughout the entire house, and people were too occupied in their drugs and drinks to even notice where the victor and the loser had gone.

Phineas was absolutely, positively, definitely, not upset by the fact that he had lost. He was certainly not crying in front of the bathroom door, waiting for Isabella to stop washing her face, as she had been for the past five minutes.

His mind, in which was usually filled with plans for upcoming inventions, the correct nuts and bolts to use in order to conceive a project, and the right wrench to use to screw in that faulty piece, was now filled with a flood of disappointment that was defined from losing. With every whimsical invention him and Ferb had made in the backyard the past several years on end to make up for the lost activities they had missed out on, he would be winning each and every time. This was only because he knew the mechanics of the inventions that acted as their fun. But this time around, he didn't exactly know that the mechanics of what four shots would do to what now used to be his victorious abilities.

He guessed that maybe he could take his drunken mind off of this by congratulating the girl who won against him.

Isabella was not used to the burning scent of alcohol lingering in her mouth. Every time she tried to wipe away at the burning taste on her tongue screwing around with her senses, she would end up staring at her red, puffed up eyes in the mirror. Isabella rubbed her eyes in the mirror, trying to soften the deadly appearance of the stinging redness that only gotten worse the more she tried to tackle it.

She did not know what she was going to tell her mother; her mother who had told her only to touch alcohol when serving it to customers at night on weekends in the restaurant they used to own - otherwise, if she had touched alcohol on another occasion, you'd bet she'd be getting a stern talk right now. Except she wasn't.

Isabella hadn't even planned herself to drink alcohol until she had been this retired billionaire - as her mother had told her. Her father died after having a few drinks or two, then swerving off the road into a parked car. If she had her mother see her in the same way her father last was, she would be clinging onto an edge begging for her to forgive her time after time. The best thing that Isabella could do in this moment was ask Buford to sleep over or call for a taxi to take her home.

Still, she knew that when she came home, her mother would see her red eyes and scream blasphemy right in her face as her little dog, Pinky, shook right below at her feet in an attempt to protect her.

She guessed that maybe she could take her worries off of this by talking to this new boy she had just met and won against.

Phineas stood at the door of the bathroom, his hand lingering over the knob. Normally, he would immediately take the opportunity to make friends with anyone he had met; all of his and Ferb's customers were friends to him and he often had surges of texts greeting him first thing in the morning when he woke up. Both he and Isabella were drunk - how likely would it be that they would talk to each other in the next few days, reminiscing over how they first became friends.

He knocked but heard no response. He settled his hand on the doorknob. As soon as he did so, the knob itself turned and Isabella came out with the most distraught look on her face. Yet, she was still attempting to plaster a triumphant look that told him, "I won, you lost!" There was still a grim look to her face, and Phineas couldn't help but notice. His first words to her were going to be a display of concern for Isabella, a stringent of harmonies that only voiced worry for her because of how she was expressing herself, it was-

"Did those shots screw you over, too?"

And yet, his alcoholic thoughts took over him.

Isabella began to laugh and rub her palm on her temple. The alcohol truly screwed her over, and she didn't know exactly how where her mind and body would lead her next. Those 151 Ways to Die shots essentially really did give her 151 ways to die, and if she could die right now in front of this boy before her mother sees she broke one of the few rules she vowed to stay under, then she would definitely not mind at all. "Mhm, you?"

Phineas nodded. "Yeah, why do you look stressed out?"

"Phin..." Isabella mumbled off as she began to stare around at the space around them. She had just realized she didn't exactly get a clear understanding of what his name was earlier before she and him had downed too many shots to count. "Phineas, right?"

"What?" He yelled over the music, before she pulled him aside farther down the hall, where the music was practically muted and the voices were almost inaudible.

"Your name's Phineas, right?"

"Wow," Phineas gaped at her in awe sarcastically, "You're a genius, _Isabella_!" He emphasized her name in order to let her know that at least he knew _her_ name. The everyday sober Phineas was never like this, and his drunken self had to make sure that his sarcasm he used to have as a child - even if bad - was still intact.

Isabella, still dazed from all the shots, shook her head and tried to comprehend what utter nonsense he was spelling out for her. "Is it?"

Phineas pout his bottom lip to Isabella and crossed his arms. "I don't know, _is it_? You should know me from French class."

Isabella squinted her eyes at him, to which he oddly squinted back in order to be playful. "Funny. I actually still don't know anyone from that class because I sit in the front," She said, acting annoyed - but in all honesty, she was enjoying this little banter with this boy she had barely met. "I'm drunk. Mamá's gonna kill me."

"Bet she won't notice."

"Have you seen my eyes?"

"Yeah, puffy and red. A lot like mine." Despite the fact that she did look a bit bad with her swollen eye bags and red vessels settling in her eyes, he took note of how pretty she was. He had always seen the back of her black hair in French class, only getting a few glimpses of her face here and there. But seeing her here was probably the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen since the day he made his first invention.

Isabella smiled. "I heard you crying outside. That explains a lot-"

Phineas's eyes widened and his face began to turn red. "That wasn't me," He interrupted so to save himself from the humiliation Isabella was about to serve him.

"Sure, _loser_." Isabella watched as Phineas's face faltered from an attempt to be sarcastic to embarrassment. She tugged at her eyes again, but pulled away once she realized that they would worsen the look on her face that was mixed with guilt. She needed to get rid of it quickly and what could possibly be her last resort was just right in front of her. "You're the kid that invented that thing everyone's using in here right? Everything says, 'Phineas and Ferb' on it...well, if Phineas even _is_ your name."

"Which thing? The joints that're stinking up the place, or that bottle that keeps getting everyone drunk?"

"Jesus..." Isabella muttered, her teeth ebbing away at her bottom lip, "You made both of those things?"

Phineas shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "With my brother, Ferb."

"Impressive," Isabella whispered to herself. "So you _are_ Phineas." Phineas nodded. "By any chance, do you have something that can rid of how drunk I am? Or that can probably get rid of how stupid my eyes look right now?"

"We've been getting that request a lot," He remarked as he leaned against the wall cooly, "The bottles keep breaking so we've been focused on making those unbreakable for now. If we put that off for a bit, we'd be getting some angry customers that'd see the trouble off of needing to get drunk off of _actual_ drinks."

"Okay, well, what do you have right now? My mom can't see me like this."

Phineas whimpered. He put his hand in his pocket to feel around for the one thing that he did have. It was much different from the most recent developments of his recent projects - well, his _and Ferb's_ recent projects. This one, however, was created by him and only him. Ferb had no involvement in it; all that he wanted to do was make whatsoever can give them money. Ferb was in it for the money, but Phineas was in it for the pleasure of inventing.

That's all he cared about. Ever since their dad lost his job as a real estate agent, he resort to having an antique shop that wasn't successful, but it was one of the only ways to get a buck or two a week. Sure, they could ask their older sister Candace for a few dollars here and there, but she needed to pay off much of her college funds. When Ferb realized he could use the activity of inventing as an outlet to get even more money for the family, he quickly took over and switched the roles they used to have - Ferb was the man of action, whereas Phineas was the man of ideas. This time around, Ferb was the man of ideas, and Phineas was the man of action.

Ferb observed everyone's actions at Danville High one day, taking note that practically everyone was heavy on getting high and drinking; ever since then, he's been creating those bottles and joints to get money for the family.

Phineas wasn't upset that they were only doing this for money - their family truly needed the money. But, if he could turn back time and have it back when he and Ferb only made inventions for fun, he absolutely could. He's tried, nonetheless, but the concept just wasn't perfectly exact.

He pulled out the object in his pocket. It was a white pen; it looked like any average pen. He smirked at Isabella, enticing a skeptical reaction from her. "Do you mind if I see if I can draw new eyes for you?"

Isabella's eyes widened. "Sorry, what the hell? Are you that drun-"

"Okay, so I made this pen that can make whatever you draw in the air become real. I've usually just drawn bouncy balls with this thing, but let me see what I can do for you. I'll just make some eyeballs, probably make you sleep then take out your original eyes, 'n pop the new ones in." Phineas was just about ready to burst into laughter when he saw that Isabella began to momentarily freak out.

"No, no, what the hell? You're gonna make me new eyeballs? Are you a maniac?"

Phineas couldn't help himself; he immediately choked on his laughter in front of poor Isabella who had only grown into her bubble of confusion. "I'm kidding," He clarified. Isabella's expression began to soften and her drunken self slowly got ahold of what the joke was about. "I can't do that, but I can make you something that can take your mind off of this."

"I doubt you can do that," Isabella retorted. She knew that for sure she would be unable to take the concern away about what the future would hold for her and her mother shortly thereafter she saw how stupidly drunk she was.

Phineas clicked a button on his pen. Out came a glowing white light trailing from the tip of it that followed wheresoever it went. He shrugged at Isabella. "I'm right about being able to make whatever I draw become real with this pen, though."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I think _you_ are."

He switched a gear on his pen that allowed him to draw with black ink, later shaking it in order to ensure that no ink would actually stain anything. He started to draw a small glass the size of his hand, watching in the background as Isabella stared at it, fascinated and hellbent on this thing that wouldn't necessarily see everyday. He quickly, without looking, switched the color to blue, marking the inside of the glass with a cool tone that mimicked the look of water - in which is exactly what he was looking for.

Phineas lent the pen over to Isabella's palm. She became hesitant to grab it, but was eyeing it with such intensity that at this point she could have memorized each and every function within this little gadget. "Would you mind doing the honors?"

"I..." Isabella said, once again rubbing at her temple as though to make clear that she wasn't hallucinating. Those shots had made her feel as if everything was unreal, as if those drinks had intoxicated her just a bit too much. "I'm really drunk, aren't I?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Push it," He said, taking her hand and resting her finger right where it activated the final product of what came out of the project. It was a small hidden button laid discreetly on the side of the pen, acting as a grip that sat at the body. He took ahold of her arm and rested her palm underneath the drawing of the glass. "Get ready to catch it."

"What?" Isabella questioned. She felt Phineas's thumb rub over her own and suddenly push the button. The glass of water fell right into her hand; it wobbled until it somewhat quickly settled into her fingers right as Isabella came to realize that this was the most surreal experience of her life.

She had heard of the infamous Phineas Flynn from her French class who stood alongside his brother, Ferb Fletcher to make each and every single, what she called, "weed-makers" and "bottle screw-ups". That was all they were connected to now; they used to be connected to their endless active inventions that always lead to some sort of amusement park type of fun in their backyard - but that was when they were middle schoolers and not high schoolers with other teenagers who were obsessed with feeling grown up. She had never expected him to make an invention like this. Isabella always expected for him to probably be stuck forever on making those things, not knowing how to make anything else.

But nonetheless, he was proving her wrong.

Phineas helped balance the glass of water in Isabella's hand, spilling a few drops of water here and there as she stood there, slightly shocked but her fingers gripped tightly around it. "I got you some water," He remarked cheekily. "Sorry you had to catch it. I can't draw things really close to the ground because I programmed this to only be used for bouncy balls at first."

Isabella soon rolled her eyes, a hint of mirth residing in it. "You could've gotten some from the kitchen, Phineas."

"But that would ruin the fun of this invention. Drink it, water helps."

"How can I be _sure_ this is water?"

"Don't worry. If not, I can get you water from the kitchen, then," He turned on his heel to walk to the kitchen, but felt a grip on his arm. He saw Isabella chugging down the glass of water behind him, immediately finishing it within seconds. She loosened her grip on him and handed the glass over to him.

She nodded, giggling. "I'm sure."

Phineas smiled. "I told you," He said. Her eyes still remained red and her eyes were still as puffy as ever in the light he saw her in. He slowly began to realize that, as by how intense her drunken face looked, she could definitely need some help with not only getting a ride home, but maybe explaining a few things or two to her mother. "You know, I can get you home tonight."

Isabella's eyes widened. "Phineas, you're drunk. You can't drive."

"My brother and his girlfriend's picking me up soon," Phineas said, shrugging off her concern, "I don't think they'd mind giving you a ride home."

"It's okay," Isabella said, realizing that she probably needed to rub at her drunk eyes a bit more to stop Phineas from observing how messed up it possibly looked. "I'll ask Buford if I can stay here for the night."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's a bit late to tell her you're staying over. Wouldn't your mom be worried?"

Isabella shrugged, then nodded. "Is it okay if they can take me me home?"

"Yeah, I'll get you a few drinks from the kitchen before they pick us up, so you won't look _too_ terrible."

"Can we use that pen instead for getting water?"

Phineas's face lit up - someone had actually, in the longest time, liked an invention that wasn't related to drugs or drinking. "You liked it?" And it was _his_ invention. It wasn't an invention that was made by him and Ferb solely for the money, it was a little invention that exemplified the personification of who Phineas could've been if things remained the same way it did when he was in middle school with Ferb.

"It's the coolest thing I've seen in my life," She said, gleaming at the pen that was in his hand. "Also, your water seems cleaner than whatever Buford has."

"It definitely is cleaner than Buford's water," Phineas laughed as he activated the pen yet once again. He drew two glasses in the air in front of them, both somewhat at the same size. He started to toggle through several colors installed into the device. "Ferb told me that he gets rid of his hangovers by drinking coconut water. I'm assuming it works for getting rid of how much alcohol there is in our bodies right now, too."

Isabella breathed in air through her teeth, as though to tell him immediately that this wasn't the best decision for her. "I'm allergic to coconuts." She watched as Phineas's eyes widen. There was a quick feeling of heavy breath that blew on her face from Phineas who looked as though he was about to panic as he scrolled through various colors until resting on orange.

A bright orange glimmer flew from the tip of the pen. "I heard orange juice works, too."

"I'm okay with that."

Phineas filled in his cup practically to the brim with the color orange. From the looks of it, it looked as though it would possibly spill as soon as it would fall into Phineas's palm. He brought his hand over to Isabella's cup, but paused upon seeing Isabella's eyes glisten just from looking at the pen work its wondrous magic right in front of her.

"Hey," He said. He held out his hand in front of Isabella to give her the pen. "You can have a gander at it. Fill up your cup, Isabella."

She pushed it away, hesitant to hold it. It was Phineas's invention after all; she wanted no part in ruining what beauty she was capturing in her drunken mind as of now. "I don't wanna screw it up."

"Nah, you can try it out."

Isabella, practically breathlessly, carefully picked up the pen from Phineas's out held hand. With a shaky hand, she began to toggle back and forth between the colors, not even noticing that it had been orange before. Nonetheless, she had forgotten what color she was supposed to use; she was too fascinated with how Phineas had practically made magic _real_ right in front of her.

"Swipe left for orange," Phineas laughed as Isabella looked up at him, embarrassed, but returned back to fumbling around with the device. Seeing someone actually worked up about something other than every other machine or bottle he had made for essentially everyone at Danville High was something new. He wasn't feeling pride from earning hundreds of dollars with Ferb, but he was feeling the same way he felt every day of his middle school summers - something that he hadn't felt in the longest time.

It felt a bit as though butterflies were fluttering around in his stomach.

Isabella found the color. She took the glimmering pen and attempted to be steady with the markings, but found herself to go the slightest bit out of the lines. She filled it up to what looked like one-third of the cup. Yet, she still looked satisfied with her work.

She lent it over to Phineas, who automatically leaned in forward to her cup with the pen gripped in his hand. "You need more than that, Isabella." He drew a small line at the top before looking up at Isabella for permission to continue to do so. She nodded, not bothering to fight back; she knew how many shots she took and she knew she definitely, no doubt, needed to get rid of it immediately.

Phineas put his palm under the cup. He gestured for Isabella to do so, and thus she put her hand close to it to catch it before numerous drops of orange juice were to manage to spill out. He pushed a button on the cup, and next thing they knew, the glasses became real with its shiny reflections and trickling drops that dripped all over Phineas's hand. He shrugged before looking at Isabella who was smirking at him for his mess of a cup - which of half was already on the floor - whereas hers was clean with no spills due to her oh-so brilliant tactic.

"Are you gonna clean up?" Isabella asked. She was trying her best not to laugh in order to save all humiliation aside for him after all that happened beforehand.

"This place is already a mess already," Phineas said before he purposefully spilled a bit more to make his point. Nonetheless, it hadn't proved his point - the floor was sticky and so were his shoes. He groaned, unable to comprehend what exactly he had tried to even do.

Isabella chugged half of her juice down before sighing at the mess he created. "Are _you_ gonna clean up?" She repeated, but this time referred to his sneakers.

Phineas tried to pick up his foot. He soon found that it was quite sticky, and remembered Ferb had hated anything dirty, let alone sticky, get into his car. "Oh, crap," He mumbled under his breath, stepping out of the puddle he created and taking off his shoes as his back leaned against the wall. He watched as how much gunk had gotten onto the shoes dripped slowly onto the floor, staining it more than he had been before. He put his cup on a small drawer right next to him and as did Isabella. "I'm heading to the bathroom. I really gotta clean this up."

"I'll help you out," Isabella offered as she followed Phineas down the long hall into the bathroom, "The faucet's sort of hard to figure out."

Before entering the bathroom, Phineas had taken the precaution to knock on the door. Last time he tried to enter a bathroom at the party, he had turned the knob too early and saw a couple, naked, trying to scramble out as quickly as they possibly could to avoid getting caught. In all of the places in the house, they had chosen the most public of all. From that day forward, Phineas had learned his lesson to always knock before entering at parties. He listened for a response as he held his ear to the door. No response, so he slowly opened the door to peek in - much to his content, there was no one there doing anything and he was able to have the liberty of cleaning his shoes.

Phineas sighed in relief. "Oh, thank God. No one's having sex in here."

Isabella's eyes widened. "Phineas, what?"

"No worries. I'm cleaning this," He said, holding up his sticky shoes to a momentarily confused Isabella.

He walked over to the sink and looked over at the knobs that handled the water. He tried to pull up one of the knobs, but found no true solution to getting water out of the faucet. Isabella stared over his shoulder, smirking at how much work Phineas was putting just to clean up his shoes. He groaned in frustration after no luck, turning to Isabella who had the look of, "I told you that you need help." He smacked his lips and lent the shoes over to Isabella, who took it without hesitation unlike she did with the pen.

She pulled up the knob, turned it, then pushed it down before pulling it back a bit to justify how much water she needed to clean the shoe. Isabella took a towel that hung off a rack right next to her and soaked it under the water as she lathered a bar of soap onto it. She quickly scrubbed away at the stickiness laid on Phineas's shoes, then presenting a practically new and cleansed pair of sneakers that dripped wet inside and out the shoe. With a dry part of the towel, she wiped away at the water that still clung to sneaker.

He took the sneakers back and smiled at Isabella. "Thanks," He said as he wiped off a few drops that were still on the shoe, "I never knew sinks could be _that_ complicated."

"I'm surprised you can make that cool pen but not figure out how a faucet worked without my help."

Phineas shrugged. He began to walk over to the bathtub and placed his shoes inside the tub to dry the inside soles off. He sat down and looked up to Isabella who was drying her hands off of another towel. "Different mechanics, new widgets...who knows?"

"Not you," Isabella laughed. She sat down next to Phineas at the edge of the bathtub.

"I _could_ know if I'd tried hard enough," He remarked, trying to show off. All he earned was even more laughter from the girl that sat close to him. It was too close for his comfort, but he was _comfortable_ with Isabella - someone he'd just met. If it had been any other person, he would've scooted farther right away, but this had brought opulence to his mind. He hadn't felt this much at ease in so long.

After all the inventions and so on, he had grown tense after days and days of having to invent for other people's pleasures. Instead of doing homework, he spent his nights online trying to order the right parts for the inventions. Anger and anxiety had only grown inside of his chest every time he and Ferb were told over the phone that a certain part couldn't arrive on time. Every time a teacher would ask for his homework, he would heave a heavy sigh and repeat the same thing over and over, "I didn't do it." Why? "I forgot." You always forget. "I know. I'm sorry. I'll do it when I can."

Isabella leaned her head onto Phineas shoulder. He jerked a bit, but she still calmly kept her head on his shoulder. If Mamá had caught her doing anything that she was doing right now, she'd most likely be dead; Isabella was much too at peace to even consider that idea at hand.

The last time Isabella had gotten drunk was tonight. But the last time she had remotely done anything intimate with a boy was about a year ago. She had to invite a boy she once liked for a quick second with a loud mouth with poor impulse control to her house to do a biology project. He was unseemingly quiet and calm the entire way through the production of the project up until they had dinner with Isabella's tired mother who had had enough for the entire day; she exuded annoyance and almost anger at the dinner table - but of course, she couldn't exactly _exude_ so much with a guest.

Isabella's fingers were at the tip of her chair, and this boy, without thinking, glazed over her fingers and held it. She squeezed his hand as gently as she could to know she appreciated the feeling. Next thing she knew, he was screaming at the top of his lungs with enjoyment, " _Is it cool if I hold your hand for longer?_ " At this point, Isabella's mother stood up, leaned over to check if they were. They _were_ holding hands. Despite how much Isabella had tried to get her hand away from his to avoid the further consequences of her mother, he, because of the excitement riling up in him, couldn't seem to let go.

Long story short, Isabella had to do the rest of the project over several video chats with the boy who constantly screamed, "I'm sorry about that dinner," in her earbuds every five minutes or so.

Isabella giggled at Phineas's previous comment. "You didn't try hard enough," She said, "You just pulled it up and gave up."

"Well, in my defense, I had some sticky shoes I needed to clean in my other hand."

"I cleaned them _for_ you."

Phineas laughed as he rested his head upon Isabella's. "That's fair enough."

Isabella caressed over her own hands, beginning to ponder about what would even happen the next day at school. She began to worry; would she gain the reputation of being that "shot girl", and it would spread all over to the point where her mother hears about it? Or would everyone forget in a split -

Scratch that. Everyone _would_ forget. They're blackout drunk.

She loosened the tension in her body and snuggled herself into Phineas's neck. "How's Danville High like?" She muttered into Phineas's ear.

"Isabella," He said, a bit taken back by how drunk she had seemed to be to him, "We both go there."

"Right, right. You've been there longer than me, though. I've only been here for like, three months-ish. I still don't know a lot. How's it like, overall?"

Phineas put a finger to his chin. In his freshman and sophomore years of high school, what he had seen with Ferb in Danville High was that everyone was a drug user or a hardcore alcoholic from the minute they step foot into the school. Not a lot of fights went on, but the only fights that went on were between Principal Monogram and the students as to whether or not they had hidden their weed in innocent kid's backpack for the third time this month. But aside from that, everyone seemed to maintain a pretty lax attitude and somewhat decent grades as compared to Phineas's due to his constant inventing.

Phineas straightened up a bit, not so much to bother Isabella, and coughed into his hand. "As you can see," Phineas, in almost what was an announcer voice, gestured to the sounds of Danville High students yelling along to Lindana's hit outside the bathroom, "Everyone gets very, very drunk." His voice squeaked then immediately broke back into his normal voice. He felt Isabella chuckle. "Also, sometimes, high. The vents are evidence to that. Everyone's really nice, but don't get on anyone's bad side or they'll hide an ungodly amount of weed in your bag a bunch."

Isabella looked up at him. "Which idiot pissed someone off that badly?" She asked.

"Some new kid snitched on one of Buford's friends for drinking in the bathroom with one of mine and Ferb's inventions last year."

"Ah, crap," Isabella cussed as she took her head off of Phineas's shoulder. He looked at her, a bit concerned. "Speaking of being new, I'm sort of scared that everyone won't like me like that kid."

"Oh, you're nothing like that kid," Phineas remarked as he took his turn to put his head on Isabella's shoulder. He felt her shoulder go from up to down, as a supposed way to say that some sort of tension was released from her once he laid his head there.

Isabella chortled, as though to say, " _What the hell are you thinking?_ " She muttered under her breath, "You think?"

Phineas's eyes closed. He felt calm just laying his head at her shoulder. "You're cooler."

"Sure?"

"Positive."

"You only met me a few minutes ago."

"It doesn't have to be forever to know someone's a great person, Isabella."

"You'll change your mind in a few weeks. Maybe minutes."

"No, I won't."

"We probably won't even talk at school. We'll just forget this."

"I don't think I will."

"I might."

"I doubt it."

"How would you know?"

"You were too fascinated with that pen. I'd doubt you'd be able to forget that."

"You might be right."

"You're too cool, Isabella. It'd be cool, too, if you didn't forget tonight."

"I'll mark it on my calendar. October 6th, the night I met Phineas, _the love of my life._ "

"Oh, the love of your life, now? You went from saying you'd forget all of this to 'the love of my life'?"

"You never know."

"That's cute."

"Cool, too?"

"In between."

"Why didn't you think you'd forget tonight?"

"Hm, I don't know. You're probably the first person to genuinely appreciate my inventions since middle school."

"What about all those people out there?"

"They're only appreciative of what I sell them. The pen is unsellable. It's also one of the first few things I made without Ferb. He's the best, but sometimes, I just need a break from all the inventions we make for other people's benefit."

"At least you're getting money."

"I know, but I don't really care that much about _those_ inventions. I wanna make people happy with my inventions, but not in the way I do with all the drugs and alcohol. Besides, seeing you light up like a Christmas tree after seeing that pen was enough for probably the rest of my life."

"Why was that?"

"I just haven't felt that much excitement from seeing someone get fascinated over an invention I made by myself in the longest time. It'd be awesome to feel the same way I did every day in my life, but tonight was probably enough for me. I think that's why I wouldn't forget tonight."

"Are you sure? We're both really drunk."

"Not too drunk. Everyone's blacking out and forgetting stuff right and left. Us? We're good. I know we're good. You won't forget."

"Even if you have to drill in this memory of us talking every time you see me in the hallways to make me remember?"

"Exactly my point. But you won't forget."

"I don't see how you can be so sure on that."

"I just am." Phineas lifted his head up from Isabella's shoulder.

"We'll see about that-"

"There's something on your face," Phineas interrupted, his eyes staring at Isabella's lips. He looked over at her cheek and began to rub it with his thumb, mimicking the motion of taking whatsoever was on her face off. He took his other hand and cupped her cheeks.

She giggled and muttered close to his face, "Phineas, whatcha doin'?" She felt herself lean into a soft pair of lips that tasted heavily of sweet alcohol and felt cold because of the orange juice he had drunk earlier. His lips were gentle and careful with hers, and...

He parted lips with her and whispered, "I think it was me."

Isabella giggled. She wiped away at the slight of saliva on her lips and mumbled as she rubbed her mouth, "No, really, what was on my face?"

"It was just me," Phineas said as he took Isabella's face into his hands once again; his eyes fluttered dreamily and he leaned in to kiss her once again. But she pushed away from his face slowly before he could touch lips with her, her giggling becoming slow breaths of confusion - heavy and shaky...

"...Isabella, it was me kissing you, it was a little joke, are you okay? I'm sorry if you didn't like that, I'll stop, I'm dru-"

"No," Isabella said, her hands quickly landing on Phineas's face, "I liked that."

"Isabella, if you didn't-," Phineas was cut off by the blasting sound of his phone ringing. He saw Isabella take her hands away from his face and put them in her lap. He groaned in frustration and took out his phone, only to see that his brother had finally bothered to call him after numerous attempts to reach out before being hit with an ambiguous text moments later. He put the phone to his ear, and whispered almost breathlessly into it, "Now's not the right time, Ferb-"

"Well, goddamn," Ferb's girlfriend said into the phone to substitute for her boyfriend's quiet streak, "You said you wanted to be picked up and now you're saying it's not a good time? What do you want?"

Phineas had to hold himself back from blowing up. "We _do_ need to get picked up, Vanessa," He said through gritted teeth.

" _We?_ "

"Me and..." He trailed off, realizing that Ferb didn't know Isabella at all, "My friend needs to get dropped off tonight."

"Is it Baljeet?"

"No, it's Isabella. She's new around here. She'll tell you where to go."

"You could've told me earlier, Phineas. Ferb and I were planning to have se-"

"Okay, we'll come out right now, Vanessa," Phineas sighed, putting his elbow on his knee and his hand to his forehead. He was irritated; why couldn't he have let that moment happen earlier? Why couldn't he have let Isabella kiss him once more instead of insisting that his drunken actions were making him do so?

Let alone, why did it feel so good?

He heard Ferb and Vanessa laugh from the other side of the phone. "Hurry up!" He had heard his brother's voice faintly say in the background. He then heard a quick honk that was both heard from the phone and outside of the house despite the blaring music radiating from the stereo. The phone beeped to signal that the call had ended.

Phineas turned to Isabella, who was blushing red as could be. "Isabella," He said as he took her chin and turned her face to look at him. Still, even facing him, she wouldn't look directly into his eyes, but he knew he couldn't exactly do that in this vulnerable time and moment. "I'm sorry about what happened. I was just too much in the moment."

Isabella perked up, causing her to look directly at him, just as he had wanted a second ago. "I enjoyed it," She remarked. She said it with almost somberness, as though to dictate that she was upset at having to leave right in this very moment. "Let's go head out." She picked herself up from sitting down and began to walk towards the door until she felt Phineas's hand lightly brush against her arm.

"Can I kiss you again?"

"I..." Isabella trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"If that's okay with you."

"Let's just head out, okay?"

They both sighed, knowing they wanted more than what they had just given to each other. They both sighed because it was highly possible they would forget about the remnants of tonight, from the excitement on Isabella's face upon seeing the pen to that unplanned kiss.

It was _highly possible_ , not that it was going to necessarily happen at all.

* * *

chapter two will come out soon! sorry for the sucky ending, i just really wanted to get this done bc i'm hyped for the other chapters! the original version of this chapter was really short, it being only 1.9k words, whereas i somehow went above and beyond with this :0 i'm beginning to wonder how i'll even get through the next few chapters that are supposed to be 10k lmaooo

shoutout to xflyhigher for keeping me sane when writing this chapter :/ u suck


	2. janitor's closet

2  
janitor's closet

The second time Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had ever kissed was in their school's janitor closet.

As well as another place in the same day, where that kiss didn't technically count as one.

The deafening sound and look of drunk students wandered the hills of Danville High on an immediate Friday after unfortunate timing with an impromptu Thursday night "get-together" held by the infamous Buford Van Stomm. People had their façades on with hoodies covering their unkempt hair still unbrushed, sunglasses to avoid making eye contact with teachers if they asked them about their red eyes, and last but not least, Phineas's most loved invention - a bottle that made the user drunk within one quick sip - to not lose the drunken elation of last night. This, often at times, worked especially in terms of the latter; everyone had been carrying this device, whether it be in their hands or in their bags.

There were only two people in the crowd who necessarily didn't seek any desire for the invention.

One of them was Phineas Flynn.

Phineas Flynn found himself dead when he got home. Not quite literally dead, but in a sense where he was dead awake the entire night. His head was laced with the amount of shots he had chugged down, Lindana's repeating hit song that echoed throughout Buford's house the entire night, and how he would tell his mother and father how badly last night had screwed him over. He hadn't thought about how much trouble he would be in with his parents until Ferb dropped him off to leave for a quick rendezvous with Vanessa at her house.

The first time Ferb Fletcher had gotten drunk after a party, he was immediately caught by his father who noticed him right away once he leaned on a bookcase and began to count the number of books on each shelf.

Throughout Ferb's entire childhood, he had continuously counted each and every book that his father had collected from antique shops around the world, until he eventually stopped once he got his real estate job. Ferb had the final number of amount of books stamped into his memory - 182 books in total. He had even took it upon himself at the meek age of ten to prop himself up on a ladder no one in the house was allowed to touch at the time just to stick a post-it note that scribbled out the words, "182 books - final". Ever since that day, Ferb had always looked up at the top of the shelf to see if his sticky note was still intact, and it always was still there, even after seven years. At the end of every week, he would always mutter to either himself or Phineas, "I hope there are still 182 books in that bookcase." He didn't bother to count them after that day he stuck the note up on there.

Except that one petrifying day, where Phineas had a front row seat to the event and felt alarms go off in head, as if he should interfere. But their father immediately stepped in the way, despite the fact that he was still visibly upset from being fired from his job a week ago and had been blowing up in anger at everyone in his path. He calmly took the drunken Ferb by the shoulder, proceeding to gently sit him down at a seat at one of the counters.

He had to make sure that Ferb was, in the least bit, okay.

"Were you drinking?"

"No."

"Ferbs Reginald Fletch-"

"No."

"I know you're usually, sometimes abnormally quiet, but tell me whether or not you were drinking."

Phineas had listened to their conversation whilst maneuvering through disparate channels on the television, attempting to make it seem as though he wasn't intent on what they were saying. The crackles and hums blaring off of the television had made it easy for them to speak, for they had thought Phineas was too absorbed in his own little world to even notice. But who would Phineas Flynn be if hadn't perked up with curiosity for essentially everything that was around him?

"No."

"You counted the books in the bookcase even though you've had a note sitting on the top shelf for the past seven years that says the amount of books that were on there."

"You probably added more. I'd always hoped you hadn't changed the number. I wanted to check. What's wrong with-"

"No, I haven't. It's been the same amount ever since you put that note up there. You know it is, and that's why you don't bother to count. Are you drunk, Ferb?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm not going to ask why, because I _know_ you drank at that party. I know my son. I'll get you some coconut water. That always helps. Keep that in mind."

"Okay."

Because of how upset their father had been that week, Phineas expected more of a reaction from him. What came to be his conclusion that he was already coming to accept everything in his life, for the next week after that, he started to plan out arrangements for his own antique shop.

The other conclusion was that in England, people who were sixteen and seventeen were allowed to drink so long as they were under adult supervision. Needless to say, Ferb was always called "mature" and "grown" by his father for his age, so it was essentially no surprise that he practically allowed him to drink without any repercussions.

Still, he had expected for his father to wake up their mother in distress, worrying about how everything in their lives are going straight into shambles. He expected for his mother to cry, and Phineas would have to be forced to comfort them whilst realizing his brother was slowly growing up before him.

Nonetheless, the only thing Phineas had come across that night was watching his brother grow up without him as he had been for the past sixteen years of his life. The next few months were not only filled with him and Ferb making inventions, but Ferb constantly going out on weekends with Phineas's French teacher's daughter, Vanessa, to go drink in places he didn't know about, or even _want_ to know about. In the end, Ferb always showed up the next day for Phineas with new plans on a blueprint laid out and a bottle of coconut water in his hand.

Phineas hid under the covers the next hour in bed, counting ways he could avoid his parents in the morning. He knew how his stepfather would react, but his stern mother who had gone through Candace's bullshit...now, he didn't know how she would react. Needless to say, he didn't need all of his fingers to count off how he could evade his parents' anger.

Number one was to pretend to wake up late and immediately rush out down the stairs and out the door until his feet took him all the way to Danville High. Nonetheless, that wouldn't work out; Phineas had taken tennis last year and napped away in another tennis court nearby in order to compensate for his restless nights spent on inventions. His teacher didn't care, let alone even notice until the bell rang and he had to sift through the courts for any lost tennis balls used during class.

Phineas would've loved to try a hand at tennis a lot more than he had in the year - in which was maybe only five or six times out of hundreds of classes through two semesters - but he was always up at night sitting on the floor mending away at his inventions, restless as an average teenager could ever be. As much as he wished he was, Phineas wasn't active at all, so trying to run for his life to school before his parents could catch him? An unacceptable idea at best.

Number two was to pretend to be sick. He considered this to be a good idea after bearing in mind that his first choice wasn't exactly realistic in real life. Once again, this wouldn't be the ideal plan.

Just as he had done in his middle school years to stay home from school, he would blast the heat of a lamp on his head for three minutes, then directly stare into it to make him dizzy. He would then proceed to call his mom "in pain" from across the house, who would come running, out of breath. She was already dealing with Candace's complaining; it was indubitably worse for her because her son was "sick." Needless to say, because she was already exhausted from her eldest daughter's fuss. She had given up and always let her son stay home, even if she had the motherly instinct of knowing he wasn't sick at all. On his sick days, she had heard the whirring sound of drills being used on his inventions, but nonetheless, she was so exhausted taking care of her kids on a daily basis that she didn't care.

In the last two years of high school, Phineas has had a perfect attendance. Even though he was always up at night with Ferb working on inventions to sell to other people, he still somehow managed to maintain a streak of being able to survive at school on an ungodly amount of sleep. Never once did he attempt to convince his mother he was sick this time around; even if he was ill, he wouldn't bother to pester her about staying home. He had figured that his mother had enough with him faking it day after day when he was twelve, thirteen, and fourteen - three consecutive years of annoyance, but also concern on her end.

Number three was to tell them. Sure, he was fantastic at inventing, but he wasn't necessarily the best at planning things that could possibly lead to his demise. Well, not anymore at least; Ferb had grown used to assuming that position for the past two years. If anything, he didn't go along with that plan. He was already dealing with his pounding head and the beat of Lindana's song that somewhat seemed to accompany it.

Number four was to head to sleep and walk straight into the fire in the morning. He accepted his possible fate at this point.

The first thing he would do in the morning was drink an ungodly amount of coconut water, just as Ferb had always done when it was just their mother who was home. No one knew how their mother would react; overall, they genuinely didn't want to know.

Phineas had woken up the next morning to quiet whispers between Ferb and what sounded like a female voice. What he normally woke up to was silence, which never surprised him because Ferb was usually mute due to an accident back in England involving a school presentation. That was all he would tell him no matter how many times an inquisitive Phineas had questioned for years on end. Otherwise, to hear sound for once when he woke up was frightening in all honesty.

He stirred around for a bit under the covers. He opened his eyes and saw sunlight streaming in through the holes of his blanket, signaling that it was time to get ready for school. A soft groan came out of his mouth, and he sifted the blanket away from his body. Phineas's hand grabbed the edge of his nightstand, thus propping himself up on the side of the bed. Everything in front of him was blurry.

"Hey, Phin."

"Ferb?"

"Nah, it's Vanessa."

Phineas rubbed his eyes. His eyesight got clearer, but it seemed as though that blurriness only waned up into his head, therefore developing into an instant headache. His head began to pang wildly in pain, but he chose to ignore it because this morning was just...unusually abnormal for him. He saw Ferb cuddled up against Vanessa on his tiny bed, there being barely enough space for the both of them.

Vanessa pointed to a glass full of clear liquid. It looked as though the drink had evaporated due to the fact that there was a dry line lingering before where the liquid sat in the cup. "We got water for you," She said, "You were really screwed over yesterday." She watched as Phineas nodded, but not even bother to put his hand anywhere near it.

His shoulders rose and he let out a heavy breath. "I got drunk yesterday," Phineas remarked whilst rubbing away at his temple to possibly try and ease the headache. He thought he could at least come clean to them before his parents, right? He braced himself. Despite the fact that he knew they both were avid alcoholics, he expected shock to derive from both of them.

"Oh, we knew," She laughed. Vanessa wrapped herself closer into Ferb's arms, who was cooly nuzzled against her neck. Yet, she still kept her eyes on Phineas to make sure he was doing okay. "That was the _best_ we've ever seen you in a while."

Phineas furrowed his eyebrows together in an attempt to understand exactly where she was coming from. He expected them to be appalled at how much of a turn he's taken in his life, not for him to be appalled at them having knowledge of what mindset he was in. "What are you talking about?"

She shrugged. "Blah, blah, the happiest we've ever seen you. All that cheesy shit. Especially with Isabella." She saw Phineas's eyes light up for a brief moment before he shook it off and turned his attention to drinking the water that was much needed for his state of mind. " You're usually caught up in your work with the drugs and stuff. You're happier when you're drunk."

"I don't _want_ to be caught up in that type of work," He mumbled and groaned, putting his hands over his eyes to make an attempt at alleviating how disgusting he felt. "Vanessa, why in hell are you here in the morning on a school day?" He looked up with tired eyes, expecting a response, but instead saw an adoring Vanessa who turned her attention to coo at Ferb.

Ferb had chased after Vanessa for three years - three years full of ups and downs to say the least.

Vanessa dated every boy and girl in the Tri-State Area, picking out whoever she had liked the most despite her father and mother's chagrin. She spent countless, shameless nights in other people's beds only to have a gut feeling that lead up to a riled up bunch of disappointment that pulled her nowhere near the feeling of intimacy, or even love. Everyone had only ever wanted her body, and she knew that; they hadn't expected her confident attitude that had spoken whatsoever she thought would be ideal for starting up a conversation.

On the other hand, Ferb was quiet and pursued her from a distance. He respected every choice she had made in with every other body she gave herself to, and knowing Vanessa, he knew she was one who gave it her all. He didn't bother to disturb her and her current relationship she had at the moment. Once he began to tutor Vanessa and was required to spend free periods with her, he found himself out of his comfort zone and speaking more sentences than he had ever had in the days he had lived in Danville. They found their common interests, and Vanessa had finally found someone who could bolster up the courage to deal with her exuberant attitude on a daily basis.

The Flynn-Fletcher family wasn't too fond of her, but they had grown used to her presence by the time their one-year anniversary rolled around the corner. Still, even after that, Phineas, in particular, wasn't necessarily too fond of her. It wasn't because of the drinks or drugs, because Ferb himself was usually drunk at every chance he had gotten. It wasn't because she was now the one who stood by Ferb every so often, like he had done so for the past sixteen years.

The two times Phineas had a girlfriend was at the peak of their careers in high school. For whatsoever, hypocritical reason, Ferb hated it and tried to talk him out of it. Once he had gotten out of the relationships, he pretended as if nothing happened and handed him the blueprints that would lead up to a money-grabbing invention. Yet, even after all of that, Ferb was still with Vanessa even though Phineas personally expressed his indignation more times than Ferb had ever done so with him.

He didn't know exactly why he had a vendetta against her and _not_ Ferb.

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at Phineas. "Do you _not_ want me here?"

"I'm just wondering," Phineas snapped at her. He was indubitably full of bitterness and anger than ever before. What did the alcohol do to his head? "None of Ferb's friends are ever here in the morning."

He got up from his bed and wobbled around the room until he settled before the closet and picked out a t-shirt and pants. He jumped inside the closet to change, watching as slivers of sunlight would seep into the little space he enclosed himself in. He heard Vanessa and Ferb whispering, but he couldn't exactly make out what they were saying; nonetheless, Phineas concluded that they were talking about him after that small argument with his brother's girlfriend. He wanted to ask his brother how he dealt with his first hangover, but he was too absorbed in Vanessa to even pay attention to him.

"Ferb, get ready for school," Phineas called out from the closet as he finished putting on his pants. He grabbed a pair of sneakers from the top of the closet shelf, and opened the door. What he expected to see was Ferb furiously jumping out of Vanessa's arms to get ready for school, just as he had always done whensoever he woke up late, not an all too relaxed Ferb who sat breathlessly with her.

 _But he couldn't get_ too _angry. He was relaxed with Isabella yesterday as well. And she had taken his breath away in the same way._

He looked over at the clock. It was 7:45 - fifteen minutes until they had to get to class. "Ferb, can you get up and get-"

"We're not going to class today," Ferb muttered. He pulled Vanessa closer in his arms.

Phineas threw his arms up. "I thought you said we were gonna sell some of the bottles today because of Buford's get-together. I saw how many bottles were broken on that floor, people were already demanding for more, how can you..." Phineas trailed off. He was beginning to show wary in his actions. His brother, the idolized senior, the person that lured people into buying their inventions, wasn't going to school when he could've needed him the most. He didn't want to piss off one more person today, let alone his brother. "Why aren't you two going?"

"My dad caught us sleeping in my room," Vanessa remarked. "We don't wanna come across him in the halls today at school."

Phineas's eyes widened. Not only was he possibly going to get into trouble with his parents for being drunk, but he was _definitely_ going to get in trouble with his French teacher, _Vanessa's dad_ , all because of his brother. "You guys pissed off Monsieur Doofenshmirtz? My French teacher?"

"You'll deal with it," Ferb said mindlessly.

"Are you kidding?" Phineas blew up in anger; his day was essentially already going bad - out of all the things that could make it worst, this was it. "He hates me!" He groaned and put his palm to his face. "I- Vanes- Ferb, does mom or dad know you're staying home? Or do I have to make this the worst day ever by telling them myself and staring at them with my stupid eyes from being drunk?"

"I called mom. She won't find out."

"You called mom? Where is she? She's usually home in the morning."

"Dad dragged her to an antique convention today around 5AM. You won't be getting in anymore trouble than you are with Vanessa's father."

He breathed out a heavy sigh that was full of built up tension, but he was still evidently pissed - to put it in the kindest way possible. He just had to give up with their stubbornness at this point.

Phineas grabbed his backpack out from underneath his bed. He put it on and turned around, glaring as much as he could've essentially forced himself to. He couldn't muster up any more snarky comments at the couple laying in front of him, so he went on his heel and opened the door. "I'll give you the money when I come back home, Ferb," Phineas groused as he slammed the door behind him.

"Say hi to Isabella for me! She's really sweet, I like her," Vanessa yelled from behind the door.

At least he wouldn't have to explain to his mother and father how drunk he had gotten last night.

/

That wasn't necessarily the case for the other person in the crowd, Isabella Garcia-Shapiro.

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro was full of restlessness the entire night.

Her mornings were usually spent eating three stacks of pancakes whilst listening to her mother mouth off about her - who she called - "unqualified" co-workers at the new Italian restaurant she worked in. Her mother preferred to have her daughter look her directly in the eye as she spoke, but that rule wasn't applicable when she was slicing a piece off from her food. Isabella had just hoped her pancakes this morning were stiff enough to the point where she had to cut them twice as much as she usually would do so.

Her mother was an excellent chef and baker. Back up in the northern Tri-State Area, they owned the famous Nosh Olé Mexican-Jewish Restaurant. Isabella, in her middle school years and lower-class men years, would often swing by after school to work for however long her mother needed her. Popular dishes such as Jewish sufganiyots were served all throughout the day, alongside huevos rancheros. Vivian Garcia-Shapiro's style of batching these treats up for her customers made them enjoyable for each and every person she served; at the end of every long day, she brought Isabella back home with a smile on her face and sang her a lullaby that lulled her to sleep - only if she had been having a bad day, of course.

Those days were delightful. If Isabella were to have any day from the life she lived up north, it would impeccably have to be one of those days. She didn't want for her mother to finally have a valid reason to blast out all of her pent-up anger onto her.

Isabella and her mother would forever curse God for that five-star restaurant, Chez Platypus, to be the reason as to why they had moved to Danville. A mysterious new, exquisite restaurant full of food and drinks that ranged from $5 to $500 opened up one or two blocks away from their beloved Jewish-Mexican restaurant. Once Vivian had heard about this, anxiety rose up in her, and she was prompted to ask her distant relatives for their old venerated recipes used from century to century to grab everyone's attention. At every chance she could've achieved, she used each and every recipe to include them on the already expansive menu.

Nonetheless, their every day customers had made their choice at the all-selective Chez Platypus. Nosh Olé Mexican-Jewish Restaurant soon went into bankruptcy, and they were forced to shut down a mere few months before Isabella had finished her sophomore year at Paul Bunyan High.

Vivian easily found a job at the Italian restaurant nearby Danville High due to her qualifiable background at Nosh Olé. Considering she was already one of the head chefs due to her circumstances back at their old home and that Isabella would presume her duties as she did at the family restaurant, she figured her new life in Danville would be resume to be the same as it had been for the past sixteen years.

In spite of that assumption, things took a turn in the Garcia-Shapiros' lives. Isabella wasn't allowed to even come near the front entrance, as she had to have a reservation a day or two beforehand. She had argued back and forth with the restaurant owner for ten minutes that she had wanted to see her mother before giving up and walking home in the burning heat of an August afternoon. On the other hand, Vivian worked with other head chefs who nagged on her, because of an audacious co-worker who speculated rude gossip about her due to her immediately starting at the top.

It was safe to say that the lullabies turned into blustering about how out of tune Danville was in comparison to other places in the Tri-State Area.

Isabella's mother was, overall, just too good with baking, to say the least. Even if Isabella's plate full of pancakes was out on the table uncovered for an hour, waiting to be eaten, it would be soft and fluffy as it always had been. She wouldn't be able to get away with "struggling" to cut the food the entire time. All the more, her mother would even try and offer to help her split in pancakes into pieces. She had always done that for her as a child - she wouldn't be hesitant to do so once more in Isabella's teenage years.

Isabella hadn't gotten any sleep that night. But she had somehow, somewhat felt her headache ease seamlessly into a painful hangover. Her head was aching like crazy, but the loopiness she had been feeling the entire night was happily gone, and she had made herself even more aware of the trouble she was going to get herself into.

She was no stranger to her mother's anger. Every day and night, she would go off about some "cabron" who was trying to cleanse himself by finding out ways to kick her out. His attempts ranged from lacing her lasagna with an ungodly amount of salt, to banging up the handle of a new pot she had used momentarily beforehand, to even putting her own lunch into the kitchen refrigerator. Needless to say, all of these were trial and immediate error, as no matter what, Vivian had always caught the perpetrator right in the moment he was about to sabotage her entire career.

Even though he brought him to the manager every time, this "cabron" was never blacklisted by the restaurant. He had worked there for ten years and was a favorite amongst the staff and customers; Vivian had just come to the conclusion that he was afraid of her taking his spotlight. She _had_ managed to become one of the head chefs instantly, unlike him, who gradually worked his way up. It would make sense as to why she would be angry.

Still, he didn't need to screw everything up for not only Vivian's future, but Isabella's future. If she were to be fired for some false rumors about her, they would both have to make a new name for themselves once again and move further down away from everyone they had ever met. Isabella didn't want to have to move again, _especially after yesterday with Phineas._

If there were two things that were ever going to ruin the Garcia-Shapiros' lives in an instant, it would be that "cabron" for - as admirable as it may seem to be - his _resilience_ to rid of the Isabella's mother from the restaurant. The other would be if Isabella was caught drinking - either it be yesterday, today, two years ago, or any other day. The day that Isabella Garcia-Shapiro drinks would be the day her mother would screw her over and seek her refuge so that she may never end up like her father.

And it seemed as if that day was today.

Isabella swept her legs over the edge of her bed once she heard the incessant sound of her alarm clock blare off the walls of her room. She slammed her hand over the clock and stared at the floor for a few moments.

Good God, she had gotten drunk yesterday. Good God, she was having a massive headache and her eyes were probably still red as a beet. Look up. Yep, still red. Good God, her mother would notice immediately - as all mothers would do, for their innate motherly instinct was running like an active engine every day. Good God...she would have to pray to God before her mother finds out the moment she comes down the stairs.

6:50. She would have to get ready in ten minutes for breakfast. Isabella had never missed her mother's fluffy pancakes a day in her life, even if she was deadly sick with the flu. She definitely _was not_ ready to accept her fate.

She had begun to drudge over to her drawers, picking out whatever she was going to wear that day. It didn't matter anyway - so many people were going to be too hungover or still high from the weed flowing through the vents to even notice. She felt the fabric of a soft sweatshirt and chose that. Isabella needed to be comfy for the next events. She got the rest of her clothing and resort to the bathroom to change.

Her fingers grazed over her skin slower than she usually would do so. Goosebumps were still spread out all over her body from yesterday. She took her time in looking over her arms and face, feeling every remnant of such a party she had last night. She touched over her lips, _still savoring in the flavor of Phineas's breath from all those drinks_.

"Isa," Isabella's mother called out from the stairs. Isabella jumped up, her touch still lingering from tracing the remnants of last night - an experience she'd probably never see again so long as her mother finds out. "Get ready for breakfast or else the pancakes will get cold." Her voice sounded sweeter than usual days, but there was still a tinge of anger, presumably from being at work all day yesterday.

Isabella rushed with putting her clothes on and brushing her teeth in a few seconds. Might as well get this confrontation over with, right?

She came out of the restroom, taking her backpack off of a hook right next to the door. She found the backpack's weight to be heavy on her back, making it a bit difficult to walk given the circumstances of what yesterday had done to her. She shifted her weight on the railing of the stairs and stepped her way down the stairs. Isabella left her backpack down next to the stairs, and put her head down at the end of the railing, already exhausted.

She put her watch out under her to see the time. 7:10. Only 30 minutes until they had to go along with their own days in their own separate ways.

She heard her mother's footsteps, and her mother rubbed a hand on Isabella's back. Isabella's back flinched for a bit, but comforted itself, as she was familiar to her mother's touch.

"I know you were at that party all night, Isa," She said, smacking her lips in disdain, as if she had regretted letting her go at all. Still, she didn't mind to remark on her unusual behavior, nor messy appearance - yet. "Get up, mija. And put that backpack on the couch before any of us trip on it."

Isabella shook her head, but still did as her mother said.

She was hoping her mother would turn away the second she got up but the moment she opened her eyes, she was making direct eye contact with her. She calmly watched as her eyes widened whilst her mouth gaped in shock. Isabella didn't know why she was so unperturbed; her mother was doing what she had feared the entire night. But again, maybe she had expected it to the point where she wasn't even shocked.

She grabbed her face, examining her red eyes. "Isa, oh, Lord, did you smoke? I knew you shouldn't have gone-"

Isabella backed away from her mother to pick up her bag. She turned on her heel and walked over to the dinner table, where she hung one strap of her backpack over her chair. "Mamá, I didn't get high."

"Then explain your red eyes! _¡Ojos rojos!_ , Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, I'm not blind!"

Isabella shrugged, trying to come up with the simplest excuse as possible so that her mother wouldn't overanalyze everything in a quick second. "I didn't get enough sleep. _Lo siento,_ " She responded as calmly as possible. She had figured that if she exuded a gentle demeanor in a situation that would freak out her mother like that, she wouldn't blow up and instead empathize with her attitude.

Yet, her mother slammed her hands on the dinner table in front of Isabella. Good God, she was furious...and good God, was Isabella freaked out in an instant.

The stack of pancakes fell over, causing Isabella to jump up in shock; she had seen her mother mad, but never _this_ mad. " _¿Tú piensas que soy estúpido?_ " She snapped with speed in her voice. Her daughter began to shrivel up in fear, becoming aware of what was going on. "Isabella, I know how you run on no sleep. Your eyes are never _this_ red."

She shook her head and laughed nervously. She was Mamá's perfect hija; this would absolutely ruin her mother's whole perception about her. "Mamá, just because that _cabron_ probably made you angry yesterday, like always, doesn't mean you have to blow up at me! Mamá, I-I-"

"Isabella, _no lo intentes_ and change the subject. This is about _you_ , mija. What in hell made you think it was a good idea to smoke?"

"I didn't get high!"

Isabella's mother pointed a finger at her eyes. " _Explique por qué sus ojos están rojos, entonces._ "

"I didn't get high, Mamá! I already told you I didn't sleep!" Isabella snapped, tired of this argument that was going on between them.

It wasn't the best counter Isabella could've thought of, but it was...

Screw it. It wasn't enough to make her mother believe her at all.

They've had little arguments before about the former Mexican Jewish restaurant, her grades one day in middle school, and even about Pinky's "obsession" with missing all day and ending up found when it was convenient for them. They were small and didn't make much of an impact on their future, but this would possibly be the breaking point for both of them. It was going on for longer than Isabella had expected. She was already hoping for the worst.

She'd never seen the worst until now.

Her mother pulled her closer from across the table. Isabella's red eyes had only seemed to get even more swollen than it already had been yesterday, for tears were just about ready to burst out from her body. Her mother's eyes pierced back into her with disappointment, guilt, and so much more. "Isa, tell me the truth."

Isabella breathed heavily on her face. Her breath was shaky and intense, as though to tell her mother she was beyond scared of what fresh hell she had been placed before. Before she could even speak, her mother's expression softened. Isabella shifted back to where she was once she was let go.

Isabella's mother turned her back on her daughter, her hand behind her on a chair. She had her hand on her hip and pushed on her stomach to make her breathe. Uneasiness was settling all throughout her body; she didn't think this day would come soon, let alone even come at all into play.

"Mija," She breathed slower than she would usually grasp her words. A groggy sound crawled into her mouth. Tears felt as though they were filling up her throat and gradually reaching up to her eyes. " _No te pusiste alto_."

She smiled and reached over for her mother's hand on the chair. Isabella perked up with cheer, hoping that she was completely convinced of her lie that was supposed to serve as the truth. And Isabella thought that for a second it had done its job. " _Sí, sí, Mamá, no hay cosas malas._ I told you-"

"You got drunk."

If she could've run right out in this moment and never look back, she, without any hesitation, would do so.

"Yes, Mamá." But she dealt with it.

"I could smell it on your breath."

But she brushed her teeth. Still, a mother could always tell when something's off.

"Okay, Mamá."

Her mother's watch beeped loudly. It was time for them to leave and part from each other for the day.

"Take the pancakes and eat them once you get to school, okay?"

"Are you angry?"

"Disappointed. We'll talk once I get home from work tonight. You playing around with drugs is already the worst thing ever for me, but you drinking is something we _have_ to talk about."

"I know."

"I don't want you to end up like Papá."

That struck a chord with Isabella. She stood there in disbelief, still gripping at her mother's hand. She slowly let go and took a pancake to eat on the way to school.

"Yes, Mamá. _Te quiero._ "

"Sí, _te quiero._ "

Isabella walked to school that day with so much anxiety. Everything had happened so quickly in a split second these past couple of days, and she was riled up with so much confusion and guilt.

She didn't want anything to eventually try and make her day better. It just wasn't possible.

/

The reason as to why Monsieur Doofenshmirtz hated Phineas Flynn was mainly due to his student's outspoken vendetta against his large classroom collection of platypi figurines that are dressed up as spies.

Phineas slumped into his seat once he got to class five minutes earlier than expected. He watched as the somber, clay playtpi dressed up in ludicrous fedoras stared at him menacingly from shelves that ran across the wall above Doofenshmirtz's desk. Back when he still had a job as a science teacher at the school, he supposedly had more than anyone had expected. When staff got around to hearing he only taught about platypi, he was being considered to be demoted to janitor, but after speaking fluent French with one of the other teachers, he was promoted to one of the few French teachers and brought along his figurines with him. Some were posed as if they were ready to attack in the position of a bear, structured in such an obscure way where it wasn't even noticeable as a platypus, and most looked somewhat like his own pet platypus, Perry.

It was as if Doofenshmirtz had some secret feud with Perry after school. That could be another reason as to why Doofenshmirtz would forever be harsh on Phineas.

He started to unpack his backpack on the floor beside him, stuffing all of the supplies he needed right into his hand before a tall figure shadowed over him. He sure as hell was hoping it wasn't Monsieur Doofenshmirtz out to kill him for his brother's doing with Vanessa. Either way, if he even tried to mess around with him just for something Ferb did with Vanessa, his daughter would be determined to never speak to her father again before he ends up agreeing to let her off.

Phineas slowly rose his head up before seeing an almost sick looking Ginger Hirano who was ready to straight up vomit all over him. Despite the fact that Ginger was considered by Danville High to be an overachieving student that everyone should look up to, that didn't stop her from getting involved with every alcohol or drug that came across her way. The day after her ex-boyfriend, Baljeet Tjinder came out as gay and broke up with her, she immediately was found asking for several weed machines and bottles, much to Phineas and Ferb's delight - well, more of Ferb's. If you ever walked in on Ginger Hirano in a Danville High restroom, you would find her smoking up the place with one of Phineas and Ferb's trademarked joints. Needless to say, she changed a lot - from being a preppy, studious classmate everyone had admired to being your typical, addiction-ridden Danville High student, but still, with better grades than the rest of everyone else.

Ginger Hirano was the sister of Stacy Hirano, who just so happened to be Phineas's sister's, Candace, best friend. The youngest of the two daughters had always been wary to keep her habits hidden from her sister's sight. Stacy was laid-back, but not _too_ laid-back to even be involved with the same lifestyle that her little sister was doing. Ginger had figured that if she had ever found out about her addictions, she would immediately tell Candace and word of mouth would get to their parents, as well as Phineas and Ferb's parents. She wasn't worried about her own self getting into trouble with her parents; she didn't necessarily need her sources to get in trouble when she needed them most for her habits.

Phineas and Ferb's parents had never asked about any of the hundreds of dollars they had given to them once a month - what _mattered_ was that their money was helping them survive. And that was kind of odd for them, considering the budget they were living on.

Every time they had given them money, Phineas was always ready to come out with an excuse about a fundraiser they had at school, or a science fair they won money from, or some other bs'ed reason. But in the end, they would forever be stupendously happy to be receiving all this money to keep living in a place they've always wanted. Still, if their parents had ever found out that they were making money by selling these somewhat illegal inventions and all, hell would raise upon them.

At least they had customers who were willing to give them much more than they had bargained for to get the best of the best.

"Oh, shit, Phineas, did you drink yesterday? For the first time?" Ginger stared at Phineas's eyes, in which were redder and more swollen than it usually was whensoever she came up to him for his inventions.

Phineas raised an eyebrow. "Ginger, you were literally cheering me on while I was chugging down those shots."

Ginger put her hand to her temple. "I think I blacked out around that time."

"I think _everyone_ blacked out during that time."

She rolled her eyes and palmed her hand onto Phineas's desk, prompting him to sit up and look back in shock. "Don't play smart with me right now." The Ginger Hirano he had usually seen was sweet and made small banter with him; she must've really been urging for her serving at this time. "My bottle broke at the party yesterday. Can you or Ferb give me one?"

Phineas settled down his items onto his desk before sighing. "Right now?" He questioned. "Aren't you worried Monsieur Doof is gonna catch you doing stuff?"

Ginger shrugged. "He's too absorbed in his platypus stuff to notice."

"Don't think that too soon. He caught Vanessa and Ferb sleeping together, and she said he's pretty peeved."

"He got mad at her for that?" Ginger laughed, almost in disbelief. "Out of all the things he gets mad at her for, it's that? She does worst things than me, why does he get mad at her for _that_?"

Phineas groaned, suddenly becoming aware of how much crap he was going to get from his French teacher as soon as the bell rang. "It's okay, Ginger," He assured her as he rubbed away at his eyes, "He'll give me more crap than any of us, I'd bet."

"At least you're not Ferb."

"I'm still the brother of Ferb. The closest person he could get to picking on Ferb is me."

Ginger patted Phineas's back. "I'm sorry, Phineas," She said. She really needed her bottle right now due to her constant withdrawals, but Phineas didn't just seem to be budging to offer her a sale at the moment. Nonetheless, she was still one to intervene for such a need like that. "So, can I get my bottle now-"

The bell rang and Ginger fumbled around in her pockets to retrieve a ten dollar bill for him. She held out her hand, eagerly anticipating her "long awaited" bottle that was broken for twelve hours.

Phineas picked up the ten dollar bill and put it back into her hand. What he saw on Ginger's face was a mixture of frustration and confusion. "Meet me at lunch," Phineas said.

"But, Phineas, I need one now."

He shook his head. "Come back to me with five dollars instead during lunch."

"Ferb says your bottles are ten doll-"

"Consider it my treat, Ginger."

Ginger's face lit up and she retreated back to her seat, where she began to dig through her backpack for less money than what she had given him. From behind him, he heard her whisper to a person next to her, "I'll trade you ten dollars for a five," to which he heard a disappointed groan from Ginger after receiving a negative response.

If there was possibly anything Phineas disliked more than using his inventions for bribing money out of his fellow classmates, it was Monsieur Doofenshmirtz's French class. For the past three years, he's been through French I, French II, and French III with the infamous Heinz Doofenshmirtz, who has said more threats to his figurines of his platypi rather than speaking and teacher French to his classes. Every year, he was hoping to get the better Doofenshmirtz of the batch for French - Roger Doofenshmirtz, or as his students called him, Monsieur Roger. Still, somewhat, due to Danville High's algorithm, he had always managed to get the brother who always threatened to "screw up" his platypus's, Perry, schemes - whatever the hell _that_ meant.

As soon as Monsieur Doofenshmirtz stepped foot into the classroom, Phineas had sworn he'd heard a collective groan from the entire class the moment they greeted him with, "Bonjour, Monsieur." His teacher settled down at the desk, and almost immediately glared at Phineas.

Yep, Phineas was about to get killed by Heinz Doofenshmirtz all because of Ferb's dumb decision with Vanessa.

Phineas looked down instantly in an attempt to avoid any more conflict with Doofenshmirtz. He was already in deep crap with him because of his constant insults towards his figurines, as well as for simply having Perry the platypus as a pet. He didn't want to get into anymore trouble than he already was.

"Phineas Flynn," Monsieur Doofenshmirtz called in a thick accent to the boy who was trying to shield himself off from his teacher's disdain towards him, "May I have a word with you?"

Phineas slowly turned his head up to look at his teacher. He grinned anxiously, awaiting for the trouble he was about to get because of Ferb. Stupid, stupid Ferb. He got up from his desk and turned his head over his shoulder to look at Ginger. The look on his face was essentially remarking an expression that told her, "I was right." Her face said, "You really were."

He leaned over the edge of Doofenshmirtz's desk and made direct eye contact with him. Phineas had heard once that eye contact makes you seem trustworthy; ever since that day, he's been trying his best to make eye contact with everyone he meets, but nonetheless, being an extrovert hadn't made that hard for him. He was practically doing that since birth. Yet, even with the eye contact, Doofenshmirtz didn't necessarily view him as trustworthy in this situation - a situation that he wasn't even remotely involved with, but was still being somewhat blamed for if Phineas were to guess correctly right now.

Doofenshmirtz tapped the edge of his desk with a pen. He could see that just with this little antic, Phineas was already all too annoyed. "Would you care to explain Ferb and Vanessa's situation last night?"

He threw his hands up, completely in disbelief. Of course, this is the kind of shit Doofenshmirtz would pull on him; he called it. "Why are you pinning the blame on me? I'm _not_ Ferb, why are you angry at me?"

"Well, you see, you're the brother of Ferb-"

Phineas slapped his hand to his forehead. "That doesn't mean I'm the one who was with Vanessa!"

Doofenshmirtz smacked his lips together. "Oh, Phineas, did you have too much to drink yesterday?" Yep, this definitely was the shit he would pull on his least favorite student who just so happened to own his least favorite animal. "Your eyes are red and swollen. Did your _platypus_ put you up to this? I wouldn't be surprised," He sighed, yet once again emphasizing his hatred for the platypus through Phineas.

Despite the fact that he was already caught by one of his teachers for drinking, he didn't really seem fazed by it. He was much too angry to even consider being worried he'll get into deeper trouble because of that. "No, I don't see what that has to with this," He snapped as quietly as he could, trying his best not to make the class pay attention to this nonsense of an argument between them, "I think you need to talk about this with Ferb and Vanessa rather than with me."

Out from Doofenshmirtz's mouth uttered a, "tsk, tsk, tsk" noise. "You really need to stop spending time with your platypus," He suggested, "I think he's plotting against you."

Phineas was already over the edge. "Monsieur Doofenshmirtz, you should just talk with Ferb and Vanessa, because I'm not-"

"Sorry I'm late."

Phineas turned his head to see a distraught Isabella who tugged at the sleeves of her sweater. Upon looking at Monsieur Doofenshmirtz, her expression faltered to fear every step she came up closer to him to give him her late slip. He grabbed it away from her, much to Isabella's surprise. She looked at Phineas for a quick glance and immediately turned her attention to where she should be going. Not even a smile or a quick wave; she must've forgotten. But she didn't seem too drunk yesterday.

Was she okay? That question began to ponder through his mind furiously, searching for each and every answer that must've made her morning start off rough.

Monsieur Doofenshmirtz looked at his watch and rolled his eyes. Five minutes of arguing with Phineas. "Phineas, get back to your seat. _Je dois enseigner. Vous m'avez distrait._ "

On his way back to his seat, Phineas tried to grab Isabella's attention by quickly waving at her at the corner of her eye. But to no avail, she didn't budge.

/

Phineas Flynn was going to be alone at lunch.

Sure, he was going to be selling a bottle or two today, especially after last night's party, but that didn't mean his customers would be up to sit down with him for lunch. He usually sat down with Ferb and Vanessa - who were often eating Ukrainian food whilst promptly making out afterwards they finished their food. In spite of their ignorance towards him, Phineas still enjoyed the smallest amount of company he received from both of them. Baljeet Tjinder used to sit with them, but somehow Buford pulled him into his group despite of constant years of bullying.

Because Ferb wasn't there to offer Phineas Ukrainian food, he was left to spend his only five dollars at lunch. The lunch line was long and filled up practically the entire room, but Phineas locked eyes with Buford in the crowd and he motioned for him to come over. He cut through the line of tired, hungover kids until Buford pulled him over and patted him on the back.

A girl with long, black hair turned around and was about to say something to Buford, until she saw a certain redhead in front of him. Isabella leaned back and avoided being in Phineas's eyesight, but still couldn't help herself and kept one eye on him.

"Hey man," Buford said, wrapping his arm around him and nudging at the temple of his head, "How are you feeling after your first shot yesterday?"

Phineas looked discreetly at Isabella, who had been leaning over to the side of Buford's large figure to see the tired, but still visibly nervous expression apparent on his face. He saw her red eyes laced with curiosity, alongside panic upon seeing him; as soon as they made eye contact, she jumped up and heard the clank of a tray, signaling that her food was ready. She turned away and began to put condiments atop her food, and ignored the situation at hand behind her. He looked back at Buford and laughed at him, "I had more than just a 'first shot' yesterday. It's a milestone."

"To you, weakass," Buford joked, earning him a laugh.

"It was something."

"Isabella still beat you by three shots, though," He remarked. Buford looked back at Isabella, turning Phineas alongside him to face her. "Whatta champ!"

Isabella felt the heat in her body rise all the way up to her face, making her cheeks redder than the ketchup bottle she was holding in her hand. She turned to Buford and chuckled nervously, immediately going back to her tray to squirt unnecessary amounts of ketchup next to her hot dog.

Buford observed at how red their eyes were through his sunglasses. "Next time, Phin, make something with Ferb that'll make everyone's eyes not as red as yours and Izzie's." Phineas looked taken aback before simply pointing to his eyes and mouthing, "Too red." A tray fell atop the line and Buford took it, edging his way around Phineas and to Isabella, who he told, "I'll be sitting with Baljeet, so just meet me there," - he eyed the mountain of ketchup his friend had made - "And calm down with the ketchup, bud."

She loosened her grip on the ketchup and slid down the row as quickly as she could to not only to get the condiments she wanted, but to avoid Phineas as well. She heard the sound of a tray slam down next to her, as well as the drizzle coming out from the ketchup bottle. The only thing she could have been focused on in this very moment was the excessive amount of relish piling atop her hot dog.

"You know, if you want more relish, I can ask the lunch lady to get you some."

Isabella dropped a spoonful of relish into her food. She saw Phineas smiling down at her, and her heart had only begun to feel as if it was pounding out of her chest, ready to fall out at any second right then and there. Why the hell was she acting like this? "With _those_ red eyes ready to stare her down? You'd get in trouble, Phineas." Her speech was stuttery, quiet, and anxious, but nonetheless, he still understood her. She picked up the spoon and laid it back into the jar where it originally was.

"Have _you_ seen _your_ eyes? I'll be fine," Phineas smirked. He saw Isabella raise an eyebrow. She shifted a bit farther away from where Phineas stood, but he still followed a rushing Isabella. "Isabella, were you okay in French? You were late to class for the first time that I can remember, and...well, yeah." He grabbed a soda can and popped it open on his tray.

She glanced down at the soda can on his tray. "Were _you_?" She questioned, still not even attempting to make eye contact with him even though he was trying his very best to grab her attention. "Monsieur looked like he was about to kill you. Not for insulting his figurines this time, but for something that...well, made him look like he was gonna kill you."

Phineas shrugged. "He yelled at me for something that wasn't my fault." He started to pour relish onto his hot dog.

"Oh, really," She scoffed, unable to decipher the sober Phineas more than she could ever decipher drunk Phineas. "He said 'I must teach. You distracted me' in French to you." She looked off the side and grabbed two water bottles from the shelf. She figured that if she drank enough water by the end of the day, she'd be able to get rid of every trace of alcohol stained in her body at the moment.

"Oh, so that's what he said. I thought he cussed me out, like he always does with his platypi."

Isabella chuckled. "I can't blame you. That obsession with that animal is weird."

"Right, right," He agreed, laughing along with her. His expression faltered once he realized they completely derailed off the track from the original question he wanted to pester her about. At this point, Isabella was still utterly reluctant to seize eye contact with him - or even look at any other part of his body to signal she's actually paying attention. "Isabella, were you okay?"

Isabella finally looked up at him. She could practically see Phineas rejoice once they made eye contact with one another. "I think Buford's waiting up on me, but," She trailed off, unknowing of what she should even say to this boy who was concerned about her, "We'll talk about this when we can, okay?"

"Isabella-" Next thing they both knew, they turned at the wrong time and bumped into each other. Nonetheless, their relish-filled hot dogs were okay, but the stain of spilled soda from his tray on Phineas's shirt said otherwise. "Oh, crap," He muttered as he put his tray down and tried to wipe away at the mess on his shirt with his own hands. He heard the clank of a tray and Isabella's hand with a paper towel came up to his shirt, trying to wipe off as much as she possibly could for him.

In the next few seconds, all that came out of Isabella's mouth was a hefty sigh of constant "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"'s on repeat.

Phineas pulled her hand away. "It's okay, I'll wring this out with a towel," He sighed, "Don't worry, alright? I'm gonna head to the janitor's closet for a towel." This was already a terrible day for Phineas, and having this mess of soda all over him didn't make it better.

"I'll get you my P.E. shirt to wear today." This was already a terrible day for Isabella, and accidentally spilling soda on whom she supposed was her new friend - probably not anymore - didn't make it better.

He paused in his tracks. "Isabella, you're like, a thousand sizes smaller than I am."

Isabella shrugged, walking in front of him to head onto her locker. "I wear an extra large, you'll do just fine." Isabella sounded more stressed out than she did before when she finally perked up to say a word to Phineas.

"Isabella, are you okay?" He came up behind her at her locker.

"Phineas, I'm fine," She assured him, but to him, it wasn't convincing enough. Still, he knew better than not to ask anymore. He sensed annoyance in her voice; he didn't exactly want to make the new girl he barely knew about uncomfortable with him already. "Just head onto the janitor's closet. I know where it is, so I'll meet you there."

If Ferb was here at school, he would've told him to carry on with his day despite the heavy mess of split soda on him. He wouldn't have let him go to the janitor's closet or bathroom to clean up. This was back when sales were consistent and they were earning at least one hundred dollars per day, so they couldn't have possibly left to go other duties than sell their inventions.

He had guessed that with this mess on his shirt, he wouldn't even be able to get around to selling stuff today. He was going to have to let down Ginger Hirano and his many other customers today, as well as maybe Ferb, who was expecting money like always.

All Phineas wanted to know was if she was okay, not have a series of too many unfortunate events peel out in front of him. Regardless, there was still some room for more misfortune for Phineas and Isabella.

/

The moment Isabella Garcia-Shapiro walked in on Phineas Flynn in the janitor's closet, she was expecting a thank you from him after lending him her shirt. She certainly didn't expect him to keep repeating, "Are you okay? You didn't look okay."

Needless to say, Isabella found it reassuring that someone cared for her. Still, after a while and after his constant attempts to get her to budge and tell him the truth, she did find it quite irritating. Out of all people, she least expected for the person who gave her her first kiss yesterday to annoy the utter crap out of her.

"I'm fine," She repeated, still trying to wring out the soda from his shirt that he still wouldn't take off despite the fact that she had just given him another shirt. "I'm sure I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You talked about probably getting caught by your mom yesterday. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Phineas, I'm definitely fine," She said through gritted teeth.

"Isabella, the way your voice sounds says otherwise."

"Phineas, I'm fine. Stop asking."

"I just wanna make sure you're-"

"Phineas, I am perfectly fine!"

He looked at her in shock, unaware that such a tiny soul could hinder up a large voice that apprehended him for being too worried. He decided to stay quiet, careful as to not try and make Isabella any more pissed off than he already had.

Nonetheless, she couldn't bare the awkward silence that Phineas had been giving her. Phineas Flynn was usually oh-so talkative from what she had heard in French class, as well as from his persistent attitude from yesterday's get-together. It was abnormal to hear Phineas be so quiet and somewhat inhibited despite being so confident and outgoing everywhere Isabella had come across him.

Isabella stopped wringing away at his shirt and sighed. She leaned against a shelf behind her and looked at him, a bit more relaxed and at ease than from the tension that occurred moments beforehand. "Are _you_ okay?"

His shoulders tensed up and he whimpered before crossing his arms. "Yeah, I-I'm sure. If you're okay, I am, too."

Isabella scoffed in disbelief at how nice Phineas was being to her. "No, you're not."

"Well, I'm sure I...I am, you know. I really am."

Silence. Isabella raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not. My brother and his girlfriend were caught sleeping together at Doofenshmirtz's place - oh, because his daughter is my brother's girlfriend, by the way. He completely tried to place all of the blame on me, and also my pet platypus as well," He groaned, "It's stupid. And now I have this stupid soda sticking all over my body."

Isabella sighed and grabbed another towel to wipe away at the excess on his shirt. "I'm sorry about the whole soda incident by the way."

"Oh, crap, no, it's okay," He reassured her, "I should've looked where I was going."

"I'm still sorry about that. I'm guessing I made your day worst."

"Shit, no, you didn't! _I'm_ making your day worst by keeping you in this closet. You can go ahead and eat lunch outside."

Isabella giggled. "I'm okay here, actually. This is kind of the best part of my day."

Phineas raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? Are you actually okay?"

Isabella shrugged and put the towel aside. She was just as close to Phineas as she was yesterday, and she didn't really mind. He felt comfortable and was actually quite easy to talk to, contrary to her irritableness towards him earlier. "My mom wants to talk to me about drinking when she gets home from work," She said, "I got caught. I also dropped my pancake on the way to school and I was really hungry, so I stopped by some store that was kind of sketchy."

Phineas chuckled, almost solemnly. "Seems like a bad day for both of us, huh?"

"It's just a coincidence."

"I'm just worried it might get a bit worst."

"It won't."

"But it will."

"How do you know, Phineas?"

"I always have this gut feeling it will."

"I always _choose_ to ignore that gut feeling."

"Do things always end up bad for you whenever you get that feeling?"

"Sometimes."

"Then yeah we're going to have a bad day. _Carpe diem_ , right? Seize the day? Even though it may turn out bad." Phineas inched a bit closer to Isabella. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"No, Phineas, don't worry. We're going to have a good day. We're going to have the best day of our lives starting now. I just...I...I know," She whispered as she brought her hand up to his face. She caressed his cheek with her thumb, and Isabella observed him slowly drop his tense expression and practically fall into her touch.

He gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her touch closer to his skin. "How do _you_ know?"

Isabella leaned in a bit closer to Phineas. She felt him breathe onto her face, warm and heavy. "It doesn't have to be forever to know."

"You _do_ remember yesterday."

"I guess I do."

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"I'm sure, Phineas."

"Really sure?"

"Phineas," She giggled, settling her hand on a tuff of his hair. She pulled him closer to him until their lips touched.

It started off as gentle as it was yesterday - just an innocent kiss, soft and sweet in its original nature. Isabella fumbled with the tuff of hair on his head, twirling it around in her fingers before she found her hands flutter down to the back of his shirt. She traced the edges of Phineas's shoulder blades and followed along the structure of his spine through his shirt. She deepened his kiss into him, feeling subdued to this boy's warmth.

To her surprise, Phineas pulled her in closer, his lips moving faster against hers. His hands were laid on her waist and he rubbed his thumb alongside her body. Everything was so good between them in this moment. It was passionate and sweet and it felt as though everything around him didn't matter to him; it was more than he could have ever asked for from yesterday...

Oh, _fuck_.

He shouldn't be doing this.

"Isabella, Isabella," He murmured against her lips. He attempted to get her attention, but she only pressed harder on his lips with her mouth, trying to forget all of what had happened in the past twelve hours of her life. Phineas came up for breath by pulling his face away from her. He looked off to the side, not even bothering to make eye contact with her. He felt Isabella's desire to kiss him again the more she held at his shirt for balance. "I enjoyed yesterday."

"Me too," She whispered and buried her face into his shirt. Her lips brushed against it, tasting the mess of soda spilled all over him instead of the alcohol he drank that she had burned into her memory. Her fingers glided up against his arm and she caressed away at the goosebumps protruding up from his skin.

Phineas put his chin onto her head, unsure of how to break his thoughts to her. He had to end everything immediately, otherwise Ferb would be pissed off at him.

He had gone through something like this with his first girlfriend from freshman year. Her name was Adyson Sweetwater, and Phineas could've sworn he was deeply in love with her. He dedicated the majority of his inventions to her for the period of time they dated - something to which Ferb was never fond of and hadn't voiced out his dislike about the dedications until he had enough. He had even told her her wanted to marry her, in which was ambitious for a developing fourteen year old with intense hormones disrupting his body, to say the less.

Just like as Phineas is with Vanessa, Ferb was never particularly fond of Adyson and the time she took up with his brother that could have been spent on inventions. He pleaded for Phineas to end the relationship until he prodded in. Because he loved his brother beyond anything in the entire world, he knew to trust him rather than the girl he told he wanted to marry someday.

He was disappointed, but he knew he had to dedicate his time to inventing to get money for Ferb and the rest of the family.

Phineas stroked her long hair and felt her sigh contently into him. He didn't want to necessarily break this moment altogether, for he actually enjoyed the comfort and gentleness she was giving him. Her touch was soft and sweet, never ending up rough or harsh on his skin. Her breath was heavy, but it practically beat to the rhythm of his own heart. Isabella was so gracious in her actions, and he never wanted to let go of her just yet.

But he knew he would have to let go soon.

He put his lips to her hair near her ear and whispered, "But..." He struggled to find the right words, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do this without breaking her into pieces in the process. He trailed off, continuing to hold her close as he knew she wouldn't be prepared for this moment after all that she told him today.

Isabella froze up. "Phineas," She muttered into his shirt, "What are you, no, I...I don't wanna hear it."

He gently pushed her off of him and entangled his fingers in her hair once again before his hands fell to her shoulders. She looked perplexed, anxious, frightened, and everything in between those emotions. He didn't wanna hurt her, but he needed to do this before Ferb had ever managed to find out and use his hypocritical ways to change his mind. "It's kind of important, Isabella," He said, attempting to prepare her as best as he could for the upcoming situation that would bolster only possible hatred between them, as it had been for his two ex-girlfriends before.

"Phineas..." She trailed off yet once again. Her fingers mindlessly ran up his chest, tracing his heartbeat through a thin layer of clothing. Isabella did not want to let go either - not just yet. She wanted to save the remnants of Phineas's grazing over her skin and his scent that was stained all over her sweatshirt.

But she didn't know she would have to let go soon.

Phineas wanted to evade this play of events in every way possible, but he couldn't just keep Isabella lingering onto this false hope of hoping something would happen between them one day. He needed to do this for Ferb, of course. Ferb was his sidekick, his partner, his brother - he would never approve of someone like Isabella having the ability to take his mind off of what was critical.

He let go of her shoulders, parting longing gazes and lingering touches with one another. Them letting go of each other was like a feather to the ground; avoiding and shifting away from the ground so long as the wind sweeps it away, but eventually having to end up where it should be. They didn't want to touch the ground just yet, but the forces of the universe just had to let them go.

"Isabella," Phineas called, hoping to grasp her attention after having to reject her affection in an instant. "I don't think I'm-"

And just like that; as if it hadn't been more convenient, the bell had rung and Phineas found himself instinctively grabbing his backpack and getting ready to run out the door.

His hand had barely touched the door knob, but Isabella stuck herself out in front of him. Her eyes were full of eagerness and fear for what this boy she had just kissed was going to say next. He caught himself in the moment and backed up a bit to give Isabella space in the claustrophobic closet full of tools here and there.

Isabella picked up her bags as quickly as she could to catch up with him and began to speak to him in a nervous manner. "P-Phineas, what were you going to say? I'll walk with you to your class and you can tell me," She ruled out and decided for Phineas, before realizing that the look on his face was telling her otherwise.

He needed so badly to avoid this. He couldn't hurt another person. That wasn't his forte, nor did it make him feel good or accomplished at all - especially in a situation like this. But he couldn't elude this forever. "You hang out with Buford, and, the wrestling team, and stuff, after school, right? I see you there some-"

"I always do."

"Just meet me there after school today, okay? I'll put on the shirt and give it back to you tomorrow. I'm sorry I have to leave you like this."

And out he ran through the door, leaving the girl he just kissed in the dust.

"I'm sorry, too."

Needless to say, this day wasn't going well for Isabella, nor Phineas.

/

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro was waiting for Phineas Flynn for the first hour of Buford's wrestling practice. There were fifteen minutes left of wrestling practice, and Isabella had convinced herself after the first thirty minutes that Phineas would never show up.

But he did show up. He did show up with tension bolstered in his shoulders that looked as though they were being brought upon a quarreling Baljeet who was pestering him about making sure to give him his AP language textbook at the end of tomorrow.

Baljeet did manage to get distracted by Buford, who happily called him over just in time for break. Phineas found himself at ease next to Isabella, who seemed inhibited as compared to her feisty, hardened nature earlier. She was small in her figure, hunched over just enough to make it seem as though the world around her was larger and wider than everyone else had expected for it to be. She looked nervous, contrary to Phineas, who looked just about relaxed as ever.

He had rehearsed every possible response he was going to say to Isabella in the past few periods that passed by. Still, he wasn't necessarily ready in a way. He didn't want to repeat the same long, overdue rejection monologues to Isabella, whom he knew definitely deserved more than that.

"Hey, Isabella."

"Hi."

"How's Buford's practice?"

"Same as always."

This conversation was uninteresting as compared to their last two.

"Are you sure you aren't looking harder?"

"What?"

"Probably can't be the same as always, Isabella."

"Same routine, different actions. I'm guessing that's what you mean, Phineas."

"That's it."

"They've got the same routine, but this time, Buford is talking to Baljeet instead of actually listening to his coach."

"They always do that, though. You haven't noticed that Baljeet started coming to his practice this year to start hanging out with him more?"

"Oh, really? Every time I actually pay attention to Buford, he's listening to his coach."

"Hmph, weird. He once told me he hated wrestling. He can't get out of it though, his dad wants him to stay in it."

"I never knew that."

"Yeah, Buford's always wanted to become a filmmaker. His dad doesn't think that's good for his future, though."

"I never knew _that_ , either."

"You've only known Buford for two months, Isabella. Don't get _too_ worked up about thinking you know him more than anyone else."

"I probably _do_ know more than you do."

"I'd bet on it, but I know you'd lose."

"Please, I beat you yesterday at that party. Bring it on."

"That's funny. Not betting though, because I don't have anymore money. I didn't even eat that lunch in the end and I still ended up wasting my money."

"You make all that money from those inventions your customers want, and yet you don't have money for me to bet on?"

"Nah, we give all that money to our parents. They give us twenty dollars sometimes, but that's only for emergencies."

"Damn, you must've spent a fortune on school lunches, then."

" _Definitely_."

"How were your classes after lunch? I don't see you around that much."

"They were okay. I had AP language, algebra II, and modern U.S. history. I just thought a lot."

"I really hope you do. Without your thinking, you'd be dead in those classes."

"No, I thought about other things, you know."

"Huh?"

"Just about this conversation."

"Did you expect us to break the ice by talking about Buford and his life?"

"Not really."

"How'd you expect the conversation to go, Phineas?"

"I just kept thinking I'd let you down."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a lot that I'd mean."

"Oh, God, Phineas, don't hit me with that deep crap."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"What do you wanna say to me, though?"

"It's really important."

"Phineas, just get on with it."

"But earlier you said you didn't wanna hear it-"

"It's later now, isn't it? I think I've prepared myself enough."

"Okay, well, Isabella, were you thinking about being in a relationship with me?"

"We barely met yesterday, but...maybe a bit, yeah. We clicked yesterday, you know. The two times we kissed felt nice as well."

"I know. But I, well, uh..."

"You're not ready for a relationship, aren't you?"

"No, no, I am, but..."

"Phineas, what are you trying to say?"

"My brother, well, and my parents, of course, wouldn't really allow me to be in one. And ah, I take back what I said. I'm not really ready for a relationship in retrospect."

"Oh, okay."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Phineas."

"I'm gonna go," Phineas sighed, shoving his books into his backpack, "I'll see you on Monday?"

Isabella stared at him, still in disbelief, but what was she to expect? All they had were drunk kisses - nothing else, nothing more; the only feeling that could have been felt was the euphoria from all the shots that made them feel excited within the moment, heightening their senses. It wasn't anything romantic, why would it be? She _did_ end up rejecting him for a second kiss at the end of the party. Still, they happened to look at each other a bit too long to be even be considered friends.

"I'll see you, Phineas," Isabella said, still not knowing if whether or not that was the right thing to say. She felt as if every word that came out of her mouth wasn't correct, as if this wasn't what could make him change his mind. She looked off to the side, eyeing Buford for advice, but he was too immersed in his conversation with a cheering Baljeet who seemed all too excited for him.

Phineas stood up. He picked up the last of his books on the seats and gathered all of them up in his arms, then glanced over at Isabella.

He quickly pushed away a sliver of hair covering her cheek, then leaned in to give her a brief peck on the cheek.

"Phineas, what...I...what?" As Isabella sat there, slightly stunned, he rushed over to the doors of the gym and exited out without another word or another look. His footsteps were heavy and loud, just as how Isabella's heart had begun to feel like. She wanted to get up and race after him to know why he did what he did, but the surprise left her in too much shock to even move.

A pair of footsteps came up behind Isabella and a smelly bag of wrestling clothes fell alongside Isabella's seat. She looked up and saw Buford who was watching Baljeet scutter after Phineas, shouting at him to give him back the textbook he lent him earlier on. "What's up with you and 'dinner bell'?" Buford questioned her.

Isabella shrugged. She attempted to make her body movement as delicate and as reserved as possible, but her head was pounding from the skepticism of the recent situation. "Nothing, Buf," She retorted, "What's up with you and 'overalls'? You kept talking to him even though your coach was fuming his head off trying to get your attention."

"I asked you first, 'bowl head'."

Isabella squirmed around in her seat, trying to find the right answer to an inquisitive Buford. "We're just friends," She sputtered out. She felt a tinge of pain in her chest from saying that; she knew he was going to ask more questions about it, but she just couldn't find the right words in this moment. Her heart was beating a thousand beats at a time, her shaking legs and arms accompanying that furthermore. Her mind was clouded up with thoughts of what she could've said to make everything go as she had wanted it to be.

"He kissed you on the cheek," Buford remarked, "There's something goin' on, Isabella. If you wanna ignore it, go ahead. I'll still ask you about it, though."

"Buford, there's nothing going on."

"That's cute," Buford scoffed. He picked up both Isabella's bag and his, getting ready to walk out the gym doors. "I'll drop you off, so you can tell me all about it on the way home."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, though. It's been a bad day, but as long as Phineas and I are still friends in the end, it's okay." She got up and followed Buford outside the gym, the crushing and bitter sound of silence following them until they got buckled up in his car. The engine revved and the humming noise kept them company, but the awkwardness of everything that had happened to Isabella still ensued.

"It didn't look like you were just friends."

"We are."

"You sure?"

"He said we were."

This was the first time Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had thought they would have their last kiss with each other.

* * *

i'm so proud with the ending of this chapter, however not rlly that happy with how vivian's and isabella's argument went. it's so rushed and it leaves no impact, but it's essentially the best i can do )): i'm good with writing arguments between teenagers and stuff but arguments between a parent and their kid is so hard to do bc of the dynamics between the two! anyway the next chapter is interesting - much better than this one at least (: also i was trying to rush solely bc i rlly wanted this chapter to be up before i get busy with school!  
also sorry if ginger is ooc in this, couldn't really settle on a character and i just kept thinking of stacy to be the one who asks for the bottle but she's not their age here! also btw vanessa and ferb are both seniors bc i didn't rlly want ferb to be dating a college student just yet, however vanessa is still a few months older than ferb :0  
shoutout to xflyhigher for correcting me on certain spanish words sksk i'm the WORST in spanish!

i'm not proud of this chapter overall, however, i'm just hoping the next one will be enough to satisfy you guys and me as well lmsfofkjs


	3. beach pt1

3  
beach / pt1

The third time Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had ever kissed was at Buford's beach hangout.

Needless to say, it seemed as though Buford was discreetly one of the reasons as to why they ended up the way they always do each time their lips were to touch one another. The get-together, the janitor closet, and now his beach hangout were going to be where they memorialized their kisses with each other. It would be where they remembered how they spoke to each other in fluent trifling, how their touches would linger on their bodies forever, and how they would end up the way they are.

Well, at least for now.

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had been grounded for a month. Regardless, a month was impeccably the best punishment her mother could have ever given her. She had been expecting the worst; she had thought that she was going to be grounded until at least college, refusing to let her go anywhere unless her mother was to permit the event and place. She thought that her mother would have to monitor wherever she went, even as going so far to follow her in every place she encountered. She thought that maybe, just possibly, she would've taken her little Pinky away from her and let him live with her grandparents until she recognized the importance of sobriety - nonetheless, this _did_ happen once when Isabella had forgotten to tell her mother in eighth grade that she was going to a club after school, and had never shown up at the restaurant all day, thus leading to the emergence of cops and, on stand-by, the ambulance at her house.

What she did not expect was essentially a slap on the wrist.

After that unpleasing day with its twists and turns, all up and down, Isabella had begun to think that it was just the worst day overall. But truthfully, when she came home, it was indubitably not as bad as she had originally thought out in her head.

All that was running through her mind that day after _Phineas's rejection_ was the long awaited anger that her mother was going to lash out on her that had riled up inside her body from that morning, as well as possibly that _cabron_ who had always somewhat managed to screw up her day in every way. On the way to her house in Buford's car, she had said a thousand prayers to God in her head; Isabella wasn't _that_ religious, but after that day, she suddenly didn't feel reluctant in her faith - just for the sake of saving herself from what hell she was going to run through in a matter of minutes.

She had gone through hell throughout the entire day. For this one little moment, the few fifteen minutes of driving with Buford, was enough to have been heaven for the time being. She was dreading the future, where her foot would step right into the entrance and her mother would chase her on her tail around the house until Isabella had given her all the answers to last night.

Normally in his car on the way to drop Isabella off, they would play songs just to jam out to after such a long day. But nonetheless, the uneasiness settling in from the previous situation was too painful, too evident, too much for her. They sat in silence the entire way home.

Well, that was until Isabella burst out into tears once they pulled up in the driveway and saw her mother's car already parked.

Buford was just about to hop out of the car and retrieve Isabella's stuff for her, but once he heard small sniffles edging out of her nose, he knew he had to stay with her for a bit. He was never seen as the the softest person to ever come around and comfort a small soul like Isabella's, especially after what happened with a certain redhead, but he knew the best that he could do in that situation was to take her in his arms and simply hold onto her for as long as she needed. He didn't want to ask what was hurting her that day; the bits of how she was acting was different from how he saw her every day - it just wasn't right.

Buford Van Stomm, since his elementary school years, was seen as this tough bully who had truly given _no fucks_. He walked around carelessly, pushing down everyone that stepped in his path whilst chugging down a bottle that Phineas or Ferb had made for him.

When he was seen around in the halls of Danville High, people would crouch and hunch in their respective spots and attempt to hide from him. He was considered to be this macho man who would beat up around who would dare cross him - but truthfully, that wasn't him.

Isabella was the first one to sense out his bullshit.

The first time Buford Vann Stomm and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had ever met was when they were partnered up to solve a logarithmic for extra credit in algebra II.

Needless to say, Buford had instantly gotten angry trying to solve the problem, whereas Isabella tried her best to do it, but had given up on doing so after minutes of perseverance. He was depending on this new girl to solve the problem to bring his grade up, for he had heard all this good stuff about her - from her fluency in French to her ungodly amount of AP classes, ranging from AP US history to AP computer science to AP physics I to AP art history to all the others; she was high up there amongst Baljeet and Ginger, if you were to compare the three. When she became too reluctant to do so, he puffed out his chest and tried to insult her, but she just wasn't having it. She had even laughed at him and his attempt to be some Herculean. Now _that_ , it was something no one had ever dared to do in front of Buford Vann Stomm himself.

He had leaned over to see what she had written on her paper, but yet, there was nothing to be seen. He had expected this genius amount of systems of equations and various other numbers that he would have most likely spent the entire class copying down. To no avail, that just wasn't it.

Buford had snorted, relaxing back in his chair and intertwining his hands behind his head. Everyone else in the room could feel the condescending tone that he was, at least, attempting to give off to Isabella. "Hm, I guess you're not as smart as everyone says, huh?"

Isabella had turned around in her seat. She wasn't mad at him, maybe more perplexed than anything. "What do you mean?" She asked, furrowing her brows together.

"You can't even do the problem. Even 'Tattletale' Django was able to do it. Everyone keeps saying you're smart, but I don't see it. You're just another girl trying to outdo everyone, but can't."

Buford closed his eyes and listened to the lullabies of others gasping at what he had just said to Isabella, who looked out of tune in comparison to him. Yet, the melody clicked and Isabella smirked, tilting her head as though she had just hit the right key.

"And what about _you_?"

"What?"

Isabella snickered. The hum of her pencil crossing out the problem on the page was heard, alongside the slamming of Buford's hands on the table.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Everyone says you're this tough guy, but _I_ don't see it. Just because you're on the wrestling team doesn't make you all high and mighty, like you want to be. You're eating dirt with that fake tough act."

Buford had been at a loss for words. Why did he suddenly feel so intimidated when he knew he could brush it off? He'd never heard these words come out of someone's mouth be directed towards him himself. He knew it was the truth, but he didn't want everyone to know - especially a girl who had only known about his existence for a month or two.

Isabella raised her hand and turned over her shoulder to face an almost distressed Buford, "I've seen guys at Paul Bunyan High who could take you down in an instant."

The teacher came around the corner and checked the paper - a paper with a blotted out mark of pencil straight on the page. "Explain to me why you disregarded this logarithm."

Buford, in an attempt to defend himself and his grade, intervened before Isabella could even speak a word. "I tried telling her that we could've solved it, but-" His response came out all flustered until he was interrupted by Isabella, who was exuding confidence more than ever in the first few months she had been at Danville High.

"Log(0) isn't defined, therefore we cannot clearly solve this equation. There's no solution."

Buford watched the uneasiness of the contrasting expressions between the teacher and Isabella. The teacher had maintained a stern appearance, whereas Isabella had smiled until there was no tomorrow. His stomach began to churn uncomfortably.

The teacher checked off two names on her clipboard and leaned in close to the two partners. "You two are the only ones who have gotten this problem right. Good job," She said, smiling endearingly at the two.

Isabella turned to face Buford, who seemed almost flabbergasted at everything that had happened in the past few minutes. "We got it," She said with triumph. She picked up her bag from the floor and began to pack up.

"I was wrong. You're cooler than I thought."

"Exactly. You are, too."

"If you wanna get lunch with me and Baljeet, you can come hang with us."

"Sounds like a plan."

The one thing that didn't sound like a plan was Isabella sobbing in Buford's arms in his car for what seemed like the longest ten minutes of each party's life.

Isabella hunched her feet up onto the passenger seat and delved her head onto her knees, trying to calm the storm that was emitting out of her eyes and onto her clothing. She felt her clothes getting soaked with the heat of her tears, her breath accompanying the warmth seeping throughout her entire body. She gasped, her body heaving up and down to avoid the constant sobs she knew she was about to throw out into the silence of the revving engine. Even with the air conditioner on in this hot, autumn day, her body couldn't help but tremble in the sweat of the air.

The atmosphere of the situation Isabella was creating was familiar to Buford, even though he wouldn't seem to be the one to get caught up in such a thing as this.

He had gone through this multiple times with a boy who was quite the opposite of him - in his stature, his personality, and all of the above. In every single moment he could have ever wanted, his arms were wrapped around this boy's small body while he cried about the embarrassment of tripping on his shoelace in the school hallways to the immense amount of pressure his parents took him under. His body would shake and Buford would feel his heart tense up with a quivering small boy wrapped up in him.

This was a side Buford hadn't let anyone see just yet.

On instinct, Buford took Isabella into his arms. She leaned her entire body into him, as though to say, "I trust you." She trusted him enough to let him see her cry. She trusted him enough to let him hold her on the most hellish day of her life. She trusted him enough to let herself collapse in spite of trying to keep herself together. She needed this after her mother, after that stupid pancake falling on the sidewalk, after spilling a godforsaken amount of soda, after giving away a $50 shirt she knew her mother would get mad at her for for offering it away, after a kiss that left her with questions atop of other questions...after Phineas.

She needed this. She needed to stay in the heat of Buford's car to cool off under all circumstances of the chances that had been given to her.

"Are you okay?" Buford whispered. He felt her mouth against his shirt, about to form a word, but eventually she began shaking her head after a pause to think about her answer.

Isabella heaved a heavy sigh. "I shouldn't have gone to your party yesterday. Everything today would've never happened in the first place."

"I would've still snuck you out to the party, though."

"And I would've refused to come with you."

"That's only if you knew what would happen. Maybe all of this happened for a reason."

"This has to be the worst reason ever, then."

Buford didn't know what to say.

"It'll be okay, Izzie."

"I don't know."

"You'll forget about this day soon."

"I don't think my mom being on my ass about sobriety and seeing Phineas in my French class everyday will make me forget."

"Trust me."

"I'll try."

/

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro watched as Buford pulled out of the driveway of her house, waving a quick "goodbye" before she was about to step straight into what she believed was going to be the fires of hell. She turned on her heel and pulled her key out of her pocket, unbeknownst of what trouble she was about to partake furthermore in.

Her stomach began to turn and churn and become stern with her the moment she turned the key into the doorknob. Her throat tightened up and her body froze, as though telling her to stop right then and there. She kept her hand on the doorknob, unsure as to whether or not she should face the consequences or, better yet, stay in the heat of the October day out on her front porch.

And so, without thinking, she crumpled down and sat down right in front of the door. She felt so barren, so deserted; her eyes felt so dry and her body fell limp. She was so tired. She knew she wasn't about to have the energy to argue back and forth with her mother about alcohol, for she was just full of exhaustion in this very moment.

And there she sat in front of her door, just as she would wait on the other side of the door of her old house for her father to come back home after a long day of work. This time around, she was waiting for her mother, dreading when she'd see the knob turn and her mother stare down at her - both figuratively and literally.

Every single time the door unlocked and Isabella's father came through the door, a flurry of buzzing enthusiasm would suddenly cloud the atmosphere. Whenever she'd wait at the door for her father, she'd be full of excitement. He'd always come back to the house with a new recipe book for Vivian or a new potted plant for Isabella to add to her growing collection or a bone for Pinky.

Nonetheless, the collection of recipe books and plants and bones had stopped sprouting the one time Isabella didn't sit to wait and see for her father to come back with gifts for the family. One phone call and a couple of drinks or two was enough to make everything cease in an instant for the Garcia-Shapiro family.

On that day, Isabella was instead sitting by the fireplace. It was probably to warm herself off from the cold winter day or to get herself excited for Christmas she was anticipating to spend with her family in three days. What for? She can't remember.

She could only remember the hurrying of Vivian's footsteps into the living room. A mixture of wailing and sobbing had been trailing out from her mouth and onto the ground. In the warmth of cheer and hope, her father's death had brought despair and an unsettling amount of tears that could have flooded the entire house.

"There was alcohol in his system," Vivian had recalled for the upcoming weeks filled with confusion and grief. "Please don't ever do what he did, Isa."

But that was just what Isabella had did the day before. Despite the high that she was given and the fluttering of butterflies for Phineas that had only lasted a day, she felt a pang of guilt for disobeying everything her mother had asked her to never do. She had expected for this fleeting feeling to last for a short while, but nonetheless, there she was on the front of her porch attempting to ignore every single rush of words her mother was about to condemn her with.

Isabella stared at the floor as she heard the door open. She felt frozen in time, as though she wasn't allowed to look up to see her mother or even to move. She wanted to stay there and pause time. This was the most comfortable she had seen herself in the past twenty-four hours that were now nebulous to her memory.

"Isa?" Vivian crouched down to her level. She still wouldn't budge. " _¿Por qué estás en el suelo?_ "

" _No sé, Mamá._ "

" _Está bien, pero_ come in, mija. It's hot. We can talk inside."

Isabella looked up. "I don't want to talk."

"Isa, why not?"

"I'm just scared of what you''ll say."

" _¿Sobre ayer?_ "

"Yes."

Vivian gently grabbed Isabella by her hand and lifted her up, guiding her into the house. It was as if upon stepping into the house, Isabella's entire being broke yet again. She knew the trouble she was bound to get into and she couldn't place the blame on anyone else if she tried. She huddled herself up into the couch and knew she wasn't going to be able to handle the next few seconds, minutes, hours, and even months beyond that.

She sighed and leaned in right next to her. "I'm disappointed, Isa," Vivian muttered into Isabella's ear. She sat next to her and traced her thumb around a sliver of her sweater.

"I know."

"Your father died from being drunk, you know. I just don't want you to end up in the same position as him."

Isabella's sobs softened. "I know."

"I'm not mad at all."

"Are you sure?"

"Disappointed is the other word for what I'm feeling, mija. You're just grounded for a month. I didn't want to go too harsh on you."

"I'm sorry. Just give me more than one month, Mamá."

" _Porfa_ , don't be."

"You've been telling me not to drink ever since Papá died. I'm sorry. I'm should've have gotten myself into this mess."

"Isa, please don't be sorry. I know you're better than what you're trying to make yourself be right now."

" _Lo siento_ , Mamá."

Vivian wrapped Isabella up in her arms. "You are so good, Isa. _No quiero que pienses lo contrario._ "

"Mamá, _porfa_ -"

"You are so good. Please don't end up in the same place as Papá did. You may be young and experimenting with this type of stuff, but this will be the last time you do so. Don't stray too far away from me, okay, mija?"

Why did this conversation, a serious one about alcohol, end up on a higher note than that of the smaller tiffs about grades, Pinky, and all of the above seem better? Isabella felt her body calm down in the calamity that she was still expecting in this very moment - but yet, it didn't seem to be happening. The room felt warm and full of hope, as though there were better things to be waiting for Isabella. She was only waiting for the worst after stepping afoot the devil's playground unintentionally. After being in this moment, she found herself only to be waiting for better days.

And there were about to be better days.

At least Isabella hoped there would be.

 _She just didn't know if she'd be able to glue back together the pieces of the relationship she could have formed with Phineas Flynn._

/

Phineas Flynn was embarrassed of today.

He was embarrassed of yesterday.

He was embarrassed of tomorrow.

In short, he was embarrassed of everything.

If you told him that he would be holding a girl close to him whilst they sunk into the most passionate, faithful kiss he had ever experienced, not even with Adyson, he wouldn't have believed you. He wouldn't have believed how close their bodies were to each other to the point where the spilled soda ended up seeping a bit onto the other girl's shirt. He wouldn't have believed that he then proceeded to kiss her on the cheek, leaving her riled up and confused in the place where he left her.

One thing he would believe you in, would be the fact that he rejected her in spite of the mixing pot of feelings he was trying to push away - and still even is attempting to do so until they spill over and dry up in the heat of the sun. He for sure would not believe the formers of what you had just said to him; however, he will indubitably, without a second thought, believe that he pushed away Isabella Garcia-Shapiro.

Name Adyson Sweetwater, Ginger Hirano, and maybe even Suzy Johnson, and Phineas will give you the same answer: "No, I didn't date any of them except Adyson." _Well, did you kiss them?_ "Only Adyson. Everyone else was just someone I pushed away." _Why?_ "They'd interfere with mine and Ferb's inventions." _Are you sure?_ "That's what Ferb tells me."

Everyone else was a miss, except for Isabella. Not only did he push her away, but he kissed her - just as he did with Adyson Sweetwater, the only girl he had ever been in a fulfilled relationship with.

He didn't know why he regretted Isabella's touch that was soft to the core, a touch that could've melted away all of his fears in an instant. He regretted the way he let her hold him in the way that all lovers do - minus the fact that they weren't lovers, not even in the first place overall. He regretted taking in the scent of marshmallow that was stained on the hair of her head, a smell that seemed to sting his nose the farther away he got from Danville High's gym. It was a scent that was reminiscent of Isabella, a girl he had barely met a day ago, but left such an impact on what felt about the world.

He wasn't even in a relationship with Isabella.

He was in a relationship with Adyson when he kissed her.

He regretted the fact that he rejected her on the spot when he had known it could have gone farther than where it stopped. He wanted it to go farther than just a first kiss, a quick make out session in a closet, and a peck on the cheek.

But he knew it was for the best. Or rather, Ferb's best.

Or furthermore, the inventions' best. The inventions couldn't be faulty due Phineas's affections - oh no, _it possibly couldn't_. The faultiness of the inventions weren't due to a missing screw or a crack in the design; no, it was because of the karma Phineas brought upon the world by feeling something for another girl. Ferb was _definitely_ in the right mind in keeping Phineas from exploring the idea of liking someone once again after Adyson.

Most definitely.

He'd just ignore his feelings and move on - as it should be.

Phineas unlocked the door to his house. He had his fingers crossed behind his back, hoping that he wouldn't walk in on Ferb and Vanessa making out on the kitchen counter; the one time he saw them having sex in his own bathroom, he had been scarred - plus, that gave him even more of a vendetta against Vanessa upon finding out that she was the one who proposed the idea to have a quickie in his bathroom whilst everyone was home. To his luck, he saw his mother watching the news alongside his stepfather, who seemed more absorbed in shining around at a rusty lamp that seemed almost impossible to clean.

"Hello, Phineas," Lawrence, his stepfather, said. He didn't seem all too focused on his son, more so on the lamp rather than that of Phineas. He didn't mind though; ever since he lost his job, this had been his therapy to save him from recounting this days at work.

Linda, Phineas's mother, smiled. "Hi, Phineas. How was school?"

Now, Phineas wasn't one to deny all facts of what had occurred in his daily life at school. He told his mother the basics of the school day to the complexities of the academics that were thrown right into his face. He told her every little detail from the first one to the last one in the end of each day's story; every little detail needed to be told in order to finish the tales. Today was the one day Phineas felt as though he shouldn't mention every detail.

Phineas felt uncomfortable in his shoes. He shuffled around until he got around to the island of the kitchen, trying to wring out the right words to tell his mother. "Good," was all Phineas could possibly muster out in a hurry.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "Just 'good'?" She shifted her attention away from her husband cleaning the lamp, bringing her head over her shoulder. His response was never a simple "good"; it was much more than that with every single piece needing to be put together.

He shrugged. "Ferb wasn't there to give me Ukrainian food. He wasn't there."

"Oh, I know that," she assured him, "What else?"

He shrugged again. "Neither was Vanessa."

Linda's eyebrows furrowed together, attempting to understand why Phineas was holding back all details when he would have been spurting them out in an instant. "Anything else?"

He looked around. "Homework," he said in spite of his mother's confusion, "I have to go do that."

"Phineas, you always tell me all about your day - and I mean _all_ about your day."

"Just this once I can miss it," he argued back. "I really have to do homework."

She looked over at Lawrence as a plea for help, but he was too caught up in this distinct spot on the lamp to even intertwine himself into the conversation. "Honey, are you-"

Ferb's laughter was heard from upstairs. Ferb never laughed unless Vanessa was there, he hardly even ever laughed with his brother himself.

Phineas heaved out a heavy sigh and looked up. "Is Vanessa _still_ here?"

"She's been since this morning," Linda said. "Phineas, are you okay?" She was a bit hurt; Phineas hadn't ever been reluctant to tell her everything, but yet, here he was, cloaking his day altogether in front of the one person he thought he could tell about today. Of course, he did trust her enough to tell her everything, but it was just...oddly hard to spit out his exact words to tell her what he was feeling.

He pursed his lips together. "Yeah, just a bunch of work." That was a lie. He just didn't want to tell her about Monsieur Doofenshmirtz, or Buford, or Baljeet, or even Isabella.

Phineas would have introduced Isabella to the Flynn-Fletcher family if he could. If nothing had happened between them today, he would have brought her to his house, elated to show off his new friend to everyone. This was something he did with Baljeet, with Buford, with Ginger, with Adyson - with people he knew would leave an impact, a scar on his memories, memories that were to be untouched by the unwavering whims of the world called life.

Thing is, he didn't do this until a month or so later until an actual bond had been formed between Phineas himself and this new person he brought into his life.

But was Isabella even his friend after all that had happened?

Maybe Isabella was just that special to him.

Albeit, due to the oblivion, insensibility, and pragmatic unconsciousness of Phineas, he didn't know that.

"Did anything happen? If you want to talk, we're here."

Phineas tilted his head. Would he tell his parents about Isabella; how he kissed a girl on the first night they met despite being drunk, how he wanted to play with her hair on end if he could, how he eventually left her wanting more than the basket full of questions he had given her on accident?

"I'll just tell you about today tomorrow," Phineas said. "There's just a lot I have to do." He stopped in his tracks. "Homework, again."

He didn't have to tell his parents about him becoming a drunkard yesterday - that's a plus.

But, how would he tell his parents about Isabella?

From thereon, he began making his way up the stairs, dreading the next few moments where he would have to deal with the hellhound he called Vanessa, as well as the stupendous amount of bottles and weed machines that created his title as, "the man, the myth, the legend".

/

"I'm not inventing today."

"I thought you wanted money."

" _We_ need it, but I don't want it. It's just for mom and dad. Mom is already working her ass off and dad isn't ready to get a new job."

"Then why the hell are _you_ creating all this shit?"

"Don't ask me. Ask Ferb."

Put Vanessa and Ferb's antics involving bottles and weed machines into a boiling pot. Mix it together and you get a pissed off Vanessa who feels the sudden urge to patronize Phineas for being unable to generate the energy into making the inventions, despite being at school the entire day when the two people who feel this dominance of power over him weren't even sharing that position with him.

Vanessa stood over an exhausted Phineas, whose head hung over the edge of his bed, his school bag essentially serving as a pillow underneath him on the floor. His body was more elevated than his head was; he was practically hitting ninety degrees over the edge at this point. God, was he exhausted. He hadn't even bothered to fix up the way he laid, nor even switch out of the clothes he spent all day nervously sweating in.

Phineas's eye opened just the tiniest bit. And he probably shouldn't have.

He felt a tug on his arm, then his body hit the floor in a loud thud that could have concerned Linda, but she was no where near coming towards the room to check up on the trio. He looked straight up at who took him away from trying to rest comfortably; it was Ferb, whose expressions held more distain than anything else. Once Phineas saw that look on his face, he turned away to his side and curled himself up in a fetal position, refusing to even comply with his wishes. He wasn't anywhere near the mood to do whatsoever his brother wanted him to do for money.

He heard the creak of the floor as Ferb knelt down to speak to Phineas. "How much money did you make today?" He opened his eyes all the way, only to see Ferb right above him with Vanessa's head covering the only light source from the room.

Phineas inched forward and sat up. He faced Ferb. "A lot." He took his hands to his eyes and rubbed away at the sleep that had formed in them within the few minutes he had been asleep. His vision became clear; all he saw was a stoic Ferb whose body language read "skepticism" in his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vanessa tilt her head. All of a sudden, light came splashing onto Phineas's face the moment she moved a bit to examine what he was thinking. Vanessa curled the ends of her mouth, as though to say, "I don't believe you." Albeit, unlike her usual self, she stood back and kept her mouth shut, wary of what to say to a practically dumbfounded Phineas.

Even though Vanessa, somehow, with the power of an almighty being, was able to keep her mouth shut and her opinionated self out of the way, Phineas couldn't face the guilt of lying to his own brother. He jittered in his spot a bit, unable to handle the fact that he didn't do the usual deed of selling the bottles and machines to everyone today - especially when sales were at its highest.

He pulled his backpack from behind him and opened it up in front of the couple. Out came an immense amount of bottles rolling out onto the floor, as well as a machine that looked a little too loose to even be considered as functional. After watching the catastrophe occur right in front of their eyes, Phineas looked up, almost apologetic. "None," He admitted. He sighed and slowly leaned back onto the frame of his bed, waiting for Ferb and maybe even Vanessa to freak out. "I promised Ginger a bottle, but I didn't see her at lunch."

Ferb put his palm to his face.

"I guess now would be the worst time to tell you I gave her fifty percent off the bottle as well."

Ferb opened his mouth to speak, but Vanessa intervened, speaking with a sarcastic tone. "You're a _genius_."

Phineas nodded. "Yeah."

"You could've gotten us a lot of money," Vanessa apprehended him. "But instead, you apparently came to the conclusion that running this business was not important to you."

Before Vanessa, before Ferb had felt the need to step up and grab money for the family instead of relying on his parents, he never allowed the environment around them to get _this_ condescending. He had always been at the same level as Phineas. They were always supportive of one another, but instead, he was out here expecting Phineas to do all of the dirty work whilst he stood behind and told him what they needed. It was never like this; they used to help each other out in every single way, every single day, but now, Ferb was practically running a tyranny with Vanessa as his support and Phineas as his only citizen - an extreme, but close enough analogy, to say the least.

Phineas was at a loss for words. Why was he practically running through a fire today, twisting and turning at every angle to avoid the mess but still ending up in trouble in all directions? "I'm sorry," he muttered in a low voice, not even trying to make them hear him. He felt as though it wasn't necessary to apologize - he never wanted to resort to making inventions to get money in the first place after all. "I was doing other things."

Vanessa leaned forward. "Oh, and getting money for this family, despite the fact that Ferb says you guys are in debt, isn't important?"

Phineas felt the need to defend himself. "Don't get me wrong," he started off, "It is! Just taking a break for one day from running this entire thing is good." He saw the disgust on their face from him saying "good", as though they didn't understand that he needed rest.

"You could've gotten a bunch of money," Vanessa sneered, "Why didn't you take advantage of that? You can't _always_ take a break, you know."

"What about you two? You two literally took a day off to rest! For a stupid reason that got me into even more trouble with Monsieur Doofenshmirtz! Your dad took out all of his anger on _me_ , because you guys!"

" _You_ were the one at school. _You_ were the only one of us who was capable of doing the work."

The heat of embarrassment, guilt, and anger began rising up to Phineas's cheeks. "You're not even in this business with us, Vanessa!" Phineas lashed out, much to the surprise of Ferb, who had only ever seen him be calm in the entire run of the business. "If anything, you guys are making this entire thing, bottle thing, weed thing, whatever, business seem as though it's a _joke_."

Vanessa squinted her eyes at Phineas. "A joke? Says the one who ignored getting what could have been a fuckload of money today. What the hell were you even doing?"

Phineas's expression faltered.

On God, if Vanessa was the only one in the room, he would have straight up dragged on about all the details concerning why the hell he wasn't on his ass working today. He would tell her all about Isabella. He would have told her about the questions he asked himself as to why he felt so compelled to kiss Isabella at Buford's hangout. He would have told her about how a weird, tumbling feeling sprang up inside of him once he saw Isabella, disheveled, yet still gracious with the way she was, come up unannounced and late to French class. He would have told her about how, in spite of the soda seeping in between both of their clothing, he felt so comfortable with the way she laid her body right onto his like a puzzle piece.

He would have told her how confused he was as to what he was feeling, but he was too oblivious to recognize this feeling as something other than just something with someone who could have ended up as a friend that he kissed.

She wasn't Ferb. As long as the person he was telling this to wasn't Ferb, he would indubitably spit out his confusion about Isabella Garcia-Shapiro in an instant as though she was an analysis piece he craved to learn more about. He didn't care about the vendetta he held about Vanessa in this moment. He would instantaneously spill out his feelings right then and there to justify his problem she didn't seem to understand.

But Ferb was there.

And Phineas knew that any slight mention of a possible infatuation was quick excuse for Ferb try and get him away from all of his friends in order to get him to focus on the inventions. He had done that with Adyson. That's why with every single girl Phineas had ever even felt a slight connection with, he knew he had to cut it off. He had just gone the extra mile with Isabella. He didn't tell anyone about her - well, just yet.

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro was just someone who almost became his friend. They were just friends. Friends who had kissed. That's not weird, right?

"Nothing," Phineas managed to blurt out. "Nothing. I'm sorry." He quickly grabbed a blueprint hanging out of the flap of his backpack and crawled onto his bed, pretending to study it when all he could think about was the anger both Vanessa and Ferb expressed towards him. All he could think about was the craziness that he had put Isabella through.

Were they friends? Were they not? Were they more than that?

Not sure, but Phineas knew for sure he had messed it up.

"I'm sorry," Phineas muttered under his breath. He was never this quiet, but this was something he couldn't fight. He knew he had to let silence lead this path.

He held in a breath to stop himself from letting out a tear or two. He didn't know exactly why tonight, let alone today, was so emotional and so embarrassing and just...so much. He stretched out the paper in front of him and began to trace away at the lines on the blueprint. Lots and lots of lines he couldn't seem to connect.

"Do you want me to help you out?"

He looked up. Ferb, despite being angry just moments ago, had been offering to help Phineas. Suddenly, Phineas felt as though he was living life in that second before Vanessa had ever come into the picture and before his dad lost his job. This had been the first time his brother was actually supporting him and not dictating him around, telling him what to do to keep the business intact.

"Ferb-"

"We'll get Ukrainian food tomorrow morning, love? I'll pick you up."

Vanessa seemed defeated. She was ready to push on for another argument with Phineas just to impress Ferb, one on one, but the moment Ferb gave all of his attention to his brother, everything seemed to slow down and come to a halt. Still, she complied with what her boyfriend said and exited out. She didn't seem mad or anything - simply defeated with the body language of a stoic.

"Try to rest tonight."

"Ferb, it's okay. I can do the inventing toni-"

Ferb raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"This once."

"I'll try."

/

Buford was a sucker for a good party.

He loved it; there was no doubt about that. It was glorious as to how he was able to pull off a party anytime, anywhere, any day, and have a flood of people rushing in to get a taste of what a Buford Van Stomm party was like. He could pull off a party on a Monday night when everyone's tired at an office, and you could bet that it would be the talk of the town until the next one would come along. Everyone loved a Vann Stomm party, for it was fantastic, always had drinks, and occurred practically every week.

That "every week" tradition pretty much stopped after the supposed "get-together" that Buford had on October 6th.

"A get-together," he said.

"Definitely not a party," he said.

"It'll just be me and a couple of friends," he said.

He said all of these facets to his parents, clinging onto the hope that they wouldn't catch onto the fact that it was more than a get-together - as they had been for the past two years or fewer more. Nonetheless, each "get-together" turned party always ended up clean in spite of the alcohol and creation of a mess that was always cleaned up by Buford himself in the end. That's why his parents never noticed it was the "biggest party" in the town. It was always so clean, so precise to the point where it was practically perfect. He was the perfect son, and he had perfect get-togethers; at least his parents thought he was perfect.

If you could have seen the look on Buford's face the moment he woke up from a hangover that Friday morning, you would have felt a twinge of guilt for even remotely peering into a glimpse of what his party was like.

Broken bottles strung about the place, alongside various missing pieces to different parts of the weed machines. Half of the million dollar chandelier above the fireplace had been lopsided and was close to being burnt by the fireplace. His parents' most prized wine bought from the Philippines was spilled all over a plant; there had only been a drop or two still stuck inside of the bottle, seeming as though it was aching to come out considering how close it was to the opening. In short, there was no way Buford could possibly clean this up on a Friday morning at 7 AM, when his parents were supposed to come home at 8:30 AM from a business trip, and he had to go to school that same day.

You can only imagine the stern talk Buford had gone through that entire day.

Just like his fellow friend, Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, he had gone through a month long grounding; without the weekly parties, the weekly routine of drinking, the weekly routine of binging on food that he probably shouldn't have trusted in the first place, Buford had been bored out of his mind. It was an absolutely amount of torture to not be hosting the best party on the block, nay, the best party in Danville - scratch that, the best party in the world.

The closest thing he could possibly get to a party was inviting Isabella to his house to study for the next math test that took place practically every week - something that was in place of the weekly parties, minus all the drugs and alcohol, of course. Sure, although she was reserved to herself and often solved the math problems on her own without telling Buford how to do so, she budged when Buford got her inspired to talk about what had been occurring in her life at the moment.

She had been fairly vocal about Phineas's ignorance towards her - in spite of the many coincidental times they had been paired up together in French class to do a project or two. She told him about how Phineas kept his eyes on the prize of earning a grade rather than trying to converse with her about the previous situation they had gone through. Him keeping his attention straight in French class was odd to Isabella to say the least, considering how little in the past he had been focused on the class itself and more so on the blueprints he hid under his textbooks on his desk.

She told him about how every time they crossed paths in the hallways, they would take quick glances at each other and she would be prompted to mouth a soft, "Hi," whereas he would immediately turn and pretend nothing had happened. He would be there when she least expected him, then gone in an instant right in front of her eyes.

Buford already did have a substantial amount of dislike for Phineas from the day he retrieved his first bottle - keep in mind, the very first bottle Phineas and Ferb had ever invented together. Phineas was adamant on it being perfect, it being flawless, with no crooks or nannies in the wrong spots. Albeit, it looked as though it was beautifully put together; when Buford took a large swig of orange juice turned alcohol from that bottle, he ended up in the hospital for an entire week. It turns out that the bottle had its defects and Phineas and Ferb didn't necessarily think about testing it out themselves until they gave it to Buford who faced the consequence. Despite that incident, Buford was a sucker for the bottle and its magical ways of "turning water into wine", thus he was the most active customer for them out of the couple of hundreds that came running to them. They were gods to him - gods that he hated, but benefited from.

The moment Isabella spilled out her incertitude towards Phineas alongside the unnecessary puzzle he was making her solve on her own, Buford knew he was next on his list. It was one thing to put Buford in the hospital, but another to hurt this new girl who had an unfair welcome through Phineas.

Buford's dislike was through the roof at this point, but that didn't stop him from relying on Phineas and Ferb to secure him a bottle or a weed machine in a hidden corner at school. If Buford were to keep any one of his secrets from Isabella, it'd only be this.

He felt the urge to tell Isabella every secret he's ever held within him. He told her about Biff, the goldfish he had, mysteriously, almost lost. He eventually got around to telling her about his dream to be a filmmaker in spite of his parents' wishes for him to become a wrestler - after all, that's what he was doing in high school anyway so might as well continue, right? Isabella had trusted Buford with every single detail both her and Phineas shared in a matter of all the times they managed to interact - even if it had been the most intimate experience she thrusted herself into.

He was no stranger to telling Isabella about the intimate details of his life.

Brigitte was the first person he told her about. She was a short-haired French exchange student whose beauty almost blinded him on the spot; it blinded him so much to the point where they proceeded to promptly get drunk in sophomore year and make out in a game of truth or dare. Nonetheless, this experience was so harrowing for Brigitte, for she feared that being with the school bully would ruin her repertoire.

Along came Gretchen, who Isabella knew due to the both of them being in the Fireside Girls, but in different troops (they also had AP art history together, but Isabella was much too focused on the content of the class to notice her peers around her). She was determined, intelligent, and brave - all of which was what he was drawn to. She had dated Buford for a good five months until he cut it off. "Why?" _He'd rather not say._ "Was it bad?" _He said it wasn't._

"What happened?"

 _There's a_ boy _._

"It's someone you know," he said, almost flustering with embarrassment.

"Can I guess?" She asked. Something inside of her told her she was maybe intruding too much at that point.

"No," he breathed out.

He was expecting the worst from her, like a freak-out of that sort. But all that came out was "okay. Do you wanna get some food?"

They got some awesome ice cream from the freezer that day without forcing themselves back to that subject.

The one subject they keep redirecting themselves back to, however, was Phineas. Phineas was full of skepticism, full of different ideas, full of oblivion, full of ignorance. He was something not even Isabella could understand, and she always understood what she was dealing with right on the spot. But Phineas...

Phineas just sat in a different spot in Isabella's brain, waiting for the right moment.

Buford kept pouncing at the idea of interrogating Phineas as to why he treated Isabella the way he was doing so. But because Isabella was almost always at Buford's side due to her utmost reliance upon him, he couldn't necessarily find the right time and place to roundhouse kick him in the face.

Or maybe talk.

Either way works.

Buford's reputation as the "man of the party" faltered in the matter of four weeks. It had been four weeks, two days, since the last one. Once he was eligible to make a party occur without any repercussions from his parents, he knew had to make it big to regain the person he was before getting grounded.

But there was no possible way his parents could trust him after that mess of a house he left for them to clean up.

"Yes, you can have a 'get-together', but not at home, Buford."

"You're not bringing my drinks to that party, Buford!"

"Your curfew is eleven. Be home or else you won't have anymore 'get-togethers' or parties, or whatever you guys call them nowadays."

His first task to up his game was to invite every single person at Danville High to the beach.

That included Phineas Flynn.

To which Isabella Garcia-Shapiro was not happy with.

"Are you actually serious, Buford?" Isabella gaped at Buford, who looked almost too giddy to be seeing her about to explode into a million pieces. She held her fists at her sides, signaling she was just about ready to fight him in front of all Danville High. And she could have; without another word, she would have easily punched him square in the mouth. "You invited" - she looked around before leaning in a bit closer to him and lowering her voice - "Phineas Flynn?"

Buford laughed. Not even guiltily or with uneasiness in his throat. It was a pure laugh, full of the optimism that seemed to set Isabella back a step. "I invited the entire school, Izzie. That's what Buford likes for his parties, if you didn't know."

Isabella rolled her eyes. She could not believe what she was hearing right now. "I invited the _entire_ school," she mocked, flailing her arms around in a way that he would never do. "The first time that I'm allowed to hang out with other people than you in a month, and _Phineas_ is going to be there? You mean the guy we've been talking about? The one who's been ignoring me for the past month? The guy who kissed me and left?"

Buford nodded with pride.

"You're kidding me!" She exploded, causing a few heads or two to turn in her direction. The heat rose to her cheeks and she lowered her voice to a soft whisper, wary of those who were probably listening into the conversation. "Why would you invite him?"

"It's going to be my first party in an entire month," he replied. "It's gonna be great, so everyone _has_ to be there."

"You could have left a few people out. One of those people could have been Phineas Flynn."

Buford took Isabella by the shoulders and looked at her for what seemed to be unsolicited eye contact. "Izzie. My party, my rules."

Isabella squinted her eyes at him. "I'm not even gonna go, Buford."

"You've been wanting to talk to Phineas, right?"

She loosened her shoulders away from his grip, taking a step back once she heard what he said, replaying his words time and time again as though there was a record player residing in her head. "W-what?" Isabella stuttered out, unable to comprehend what he was trying to say - and in her view, he was pretty predictable to work with.

Buford raised an eyebrow, as though to tell her that he's aware of her intentions that she, herself, possibly wasn't even aware of. "I'll see you at the party, Izzie. 6 P.M. Saturday. Danville Beach. _B-Y-O-W_ or _B_." He winked.

Isabella was aware of a lot of things. In spite of her quiet nature that's innately embedded within her, she was a ringing bell to mess with when she was the president of the debate team at Paul Bunyan High. Set her up on a podium amongst another person, and she will carefully analyze each and every word of her debater, mindful of her what her person was running on about.

But Buford could tell that there was a sprinkle of hope gleaming in her eyes the moment he mentioned him.

She didn't even notice it herself.

* * *

hey! i've had this part written since november and i had been trying to get the other half of this chapter done but i figured this was a good chapter to just have a part 1 and part 2! + i haven't updated since august since school started and i'm on my spring break rn and figured it would be nice to FINALLY have a chapter for u guys (: so sorry i haven't been updating; i promise when summer comes around i'll be updating more and probably finishing the story!

be on the lookout for part 2! (:


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